And They'll Never Know
by Ashsema
Summary: The final installment is complete and it's a long one. Enjoy!
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Taking a reprieve from Dreams. Not to worry though, I am not abandoning it. This is just, well, I'm not sure what it is. Scary brain.  
  
Warning: Contains some mild violence. Worse may come this way, but maybe not. Depending on how the story writes itself. Rated PG -13 just to be safe.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Invader Zim, (except plushies, shirts, key rings, ect.)  
  
Here we go!  
  
*****  
  
Chapter One: Morning.  
  
*****  
  
A shock runs through my body, jolting me into consciousness. I glare at my guard in contempt. He merely smirks at me. Like all of the guards my captors favour me with, he is a brute of a man. All muscle mixed with just enough brain to make him dangerous. And like all of my guards, he loves his cattle prod.  
  
I can smell his pungent sweat as he leans close towards me.  
  
He snarls, "Get up!"  
  
He waves his cattle prod as an unspoken threat, forcing me to hurry.  
  
*****  
  
I sit up rapidly and blink several times at the harsh lights, fumbling for my multi-function, protective lenses. It had been one of my first major inventions, providing radio, video, a microcomputer, a phone/modem, and were prescription if need be. They have become the favourite of scientists worldwide, or so I'm told. Mine are permanently disabled now, serving only as prescription protective lenses. Without them, I am nearly blind.  
  
Unconsciously my thoughts drift to Dib. He has inherited my weak eyes, and my insatiable desire to learn, though, from what I have seen and heard, he has developed a taste for the paranormal. I stifle a chuckle at that. My captors were hoping he would become their next victim. I don't doubt that by the time he's old enough, they will force him down this path. They have a nasty way of doing that. My father, my father's father, and who knows far back into my family lineage, we all shared this horrid fate. No doubt, my children's mother's family carried the same fate. My poor children are doomed.  
  
I am pulled from my shallow daydream as another shock runs through my body, eliciting a slight hoarse scream. My guard lets out a rather unmanly giggle. Again I glare at him but he merely shrugs.  
  
"You were taking to long."  
  
Stupid moron.  
  
***** I pull myself up from the uncomfortable cot with some effort, stretching my sore muscles. Personal comfort is not one of my captors' stronger points. As usual my daily uniform sits pressed and ready for wear on top of the simple desk my captors had provided for my 'comfort'. At night I am kept in pretty meager surroundings, a bright constantly lit room with white walls and a one-way observation window. The furnishings are sparse, containing one flimsy twin cot, bolted to the ground and covered with paper- thin sheets and a thread worn blanket. A metal desk and swivel chair set are set in a corner. Both are also bolted to the ground. That pretty much sums it. I am provided with a sheet of paper and a crayon every night. What they expect me to do with that is beyond me. Usually I simply come 'home' to sleep, to exhausted from work to do much else.  
  
*****  
  
I slip out of the flimsy nightwear, a simple gown really, and into my uniform as quickly as I can, very much aware of my guard's stare. I can sense the leer on his face. I hated them, my guards, even more than my taunting captors. I am never left alone, even when I shower or use the Lavatory. I am constantly watched. It is humiliating. Degrading. My captors act like they are afraid of me, of what I might do. I think they just do it to keep me in my place.  
  
'We own you.'  
  
They will never own me. I may be forced to do their bidding, but I am my own man. I hold on to hope. Hope for my children's futures, and pride of my children's accomplishments. They think they use my children against me now, but as long as my children are alive and well, with the chance at a free life, they have no hold.  
  
*****  
  
Finally dressed, I turn towards my guard, holding my hands in front of me like the prisoner I am. I know what to expect, and the guard doesn't disappoint me. The handcuffs are slapped on with surprising speed, quickly followed by foot chains. Where he keeps them on his person are beyond me. I have never really seen where he pulls them from, but I don't doubt that his black padded uniform holds many secrets beyond the mere stun gun, tazer and cattle prod. They never take chances that I might try to flee, an unlikely event, since I wouldn't know were to go anyway, they blindfold me whenever I leave this room.  
  
Once, I asked why they went to such extremes. I was told that I am to valuable to chance injury or death in an escape attempt.  
  
To valuable for what? Did my discoveries and inventions hold that much importance?  
  
I cannot fathom why they would. After all, there are assuredly more scientists and inventors with creations and discoveries greater than mine. I doubt I am the only one who created the cure for such illnesses as cancer or the common cold. I haven't seen much of the outside world, but I've no doubt that there has been amazing technological and medical advances. After all, they have granted me access to such wonders as the complete map of the human genome, and though I have improved on some of the technology, I have been given new and interesting tools and computer programs to assist me in my work.  
  
My work.  
  
It is my pleasure and my pain.  
  
My pleasure?  
  
I can escape my captors though my work. My mind is free to create the illusion I am working from my own pleasure. As long as it involves work, I have complete command over the assistants they provide me with, though communicating with them can at times be very difficult. My captors saw to that.  
  
My pain?  
  
'You will finish this project today!'  
  
I have no choice in what I am to create, discover, invent, just as I have no control over the established deadline. My captors are reasonable, and often give me ample time to complete their demands, but when I fail to comply with their expectations, they are not above torture. The only saving grace is the torture, either physical or mental, never involves harming my children.  
  
They cut my tongue in half once, shortly after they brought me here. Punishment for a failed escape attempt. Now their punishments take on a less noticeable form. They know how to torture someone without visibly harming the body or irreversibly damaging the mind. They try hard to never let me forget that they are powerful and deadly and I am powerless and weak against them.  
  
*****  
  
Blind and submissive I am led by the arm down the familiar hall. Thirty steps, turn right, fifty steps, into the elevator, 51.42 seconds down, two steps out, turn right, fourteen steps, turn left, twenty-three steps turn right, into the second elevator, 4.5 minutes down, 5 steps forward to the transport car, (a hydro fueled creation of my own devise), 1minute 3 seconds ride to a third elevator, 2 minutes down, then 15 steps to my 'work'.  
  
*****  
  
My guard never once lets go of my arm until I am within the locked labs. His shift ends here and a new guard takes his place.  
  
This guard smells of some sort of cheep cologne. I recognize him as one of the main guards. Out of all of my guards, he is my favourite. In fact, I must admit to liking him. He doesn't favour his cattle prod like the rest. In fact, he uses his sparingly.  
  
Silently he pulls the blindfold from my face before unlocking my chains. As usual, his dark face is unreadable. He studies me for a moment then leads me towards the restroom. Just part of my morning ritual. Lavatory first, where I can use the facilities to eliminate waste and attend to personal grooming, then off to the lab cafeteria where I am fed breakfast, a puréed protein drink and a hot cup of coffee.  
  
Since the tongue incident, I don't eat much solid food. The food is not the greatest, but it is better than being strapped down and force-fed through an IV. I found that out the hard way. At least the coffee is good.  
  
*****  
  
When I am finished defecating, I find an electric shaver waiting for me on the counter above the sink. I look at the reflection in the mirror. Sickly pale skin and golden brown eyes stare back at me. My black hair spikes in its defiant manner and I am again reminded of my son. He inherited my looks, and although I have never met their mother outside of videotapes of my children's births, (they impregnated her thru artificial insemination with my extracted semen), I know that my daughter has inherited her mother's looks.  
  
Yes, they allowed me to watch the birth of my children. I was even allowed to see them on a regular basis until Gaz turned two.  
  
They are nine months apart. The sick bastards barely give their poor mother a chance to recover from childbirth before forcing her into another pregnancy. Their mother died giving birth to Gaz. I watched as the doctors blotched the caesarian. I wept for nearly one week for this woman I never met, the mother of my children. I don't even know her name. I am convinced now that her death was a blessing in disguise. They would have probably force yet another child upon her as soon as they could. I am surprised there hasn't been another female to take her place. Surprised and thankful. I have heard rumors however. I cannot begin to tell you how much that frightens me.  
  
The fact that Gaz survived the wretched birth is astounding. By all rights she should have been dead, or at least suffered from brain damage, yet she has surpassed even her genius brother in testing. Undoubtedly she will be a formidable force to recon with when they come to 'harvest' her.  
  
Harvest.  
  
Heh!  
  
That's what they call this. When they take an unsuspecting soul and subject them to indignities none should be forced to endure.  
  
My guard taps his foot on the ground, an indication he wishes for me to hurry. I comply.  
  
Within mere moments I am clean-shaven and ready to start the day.  
  
Silently he leads me to the cafeteria. Together we sit at one of the small tables. The cafeteria is the only place where my guards are allowed to sit with me, and this is the only guard who does. Together we sit in silence and drink coffee. I suppose that is another reason why I like him more than the rest. He is not afraid to sit and have coffee with me. He treats me like I'm human.  
  
Neither of us talk, I for a more noticeable reason, and him, well, he never has been one for words.  
  
Although he does no more than drink his coffee as I consume my morning meal, it is a time I relish. It is at these times when I can pretend to have a normal life. I can pretend I am at a restraunte with a friend, a silent one, but a friend nonetheless. Perhaps this guard is the only friend I have.  
  
*****  
  
A/N: Atrocious, ain't it? 


	2. Tastes of an illusive dream

A/N: Welcome readers and reviewers!  
  
Please note: any following experiments, creations, ect. are LOOSELY based on 'modern' science and technology. (After all, I'm not the genius Professor Membrane seems to be. Sadly, I'm merely smart enough to know how stupid I really am.) Oh, and they are a tad 'exaggerated' and 'mocked' to emulate the surrealistic world the IZ characters live in.  
  
Section 22: This is VERY loosely based on the Canadian-based Nexia Biotechnologies Inc. creation, which has produced a spider silk protein from the milk of goats carrying an orb spider gene.  
  
I decided to run with the original turn this story decided to take. As in most stories I write, it seems to have a mind of its own. Perhaps it is merely a reflection of my own insanity.  
  
Acknowledgements: O' I luv reviews. They make me all tingly and happy. Thank you, Dib: Black Mage. You have honoured me with being the first reviewer. Thank you immensely. (Bows deeply.) I am glad this is creepy in a good way. I always thought there was more to Professor Membrane than meets the eye. The guy is just to damned, well, something. Anyway, thanks for reviewing. Thank you for your wonderful review, Raina. I am not sure of the fate of his children, but they are both extremely independent and strong headed, so you are probably right, they may yet escape this terrible fate. But with the steady, subtle manipulation of young vulnerable minds, one can never really be to sure. Only time will tell. Silent Knight I, Thank you! I hope this gives the story more direction. I wasn't really expecting it to turn so suddenly, as I have said before this story is writing itself. Most of my stories do. I hope it continue to intrigues you all!  
  
Warning: Contains some mild violence. Worse may come this way, but maybe not. Depending on how the story writes itself. Rated PG -13 just to be safe.  
  
Disclaimer: I still do not own it.  
  
Here we go!  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Two: Noon  
  
*****  
  
Section 22  
  
***** All to soon breakfast is over. My guard stands up and waits for me as I drain the last of my coffee, relishing its bitter taste to the end. We leave the spent dishes on the table.  
  
Silently we make our way towards Section 22.  
  
Spider-sheep.  
  
It is my oldest project, due for completion in less than two weeks. I am done creating what they originally demanded, but am not about to tell my captors. I have grown fond of my assistants. Once this project is over, I know that I will never see them again.  
  
That is how it is.  
  
Every project comes with new lab assistants who follow my every bidding, as long as it concerns the project. They are with me until I have completed what is demanded of me then I never hear about the project or see any of these assistants again.  
  
Ever.  
  
I have completed more projects than I can count. Everything from simple assignments like creating an ultra-healthy physically enhancing Super-Toast to more challenging and intriguing assignments like a perpetual energy generator, or PEG as I use to call her.  
  
Usually the assistants they assign to me are as cold and calculated as my guards. We develop very formal working relationships. I never really see them outside of their protective lenses, lab coats, rubber boots and gloves. They never offer casual conversation, or a friendly pat on the back. Only a stiff handshake when I first meet them and a stiff handshake when they leave.  
  
But the four assistants assigned to Section 22 are different. For the most part they play the roll of the formal lab assistants, but they offer a subtle hint of friendship. Leaning closer when reading a response to an inquiry, an honest, if brief smile to a lame joke, or brushing my hand when taking a petri dish.  
  
It is amazing, the power of the human touch such as this, even thru rubber gloves. I feel more human. More accepted. The handshakes don't hold half as much meaning as this purposeful brushing of hands. It is nothing perverted, nothing lust filled. It is innocent, a gift, an unspoken offer of friendship. It is a blessing.  
  
My captors, my guards, and my torturers are the only ones who really touch me, and their contact is of a less desirable nature, usually ending in pain, sedation, or restriction of movement. Any normal contact, such as a gentle touch on the hand or arm seems strictly forbidden.  
  
Perhaps that is why most of my other lab assistants don't offer such a gift. They fear the repercussions of such an offer.  
  
*****  
  
We stop in front of the locked door of section 22. The bathrooms, the cafeteria, the general lobby and conference rooms constituting the common areas remain unlocked while every 'section' is barricaded behind a series of palm, DNA, and/or retinal scanners.  
  
Locks within locks within locks.  
  
If I were ever asked to comment on my captors' collective state of mental being, I would have to say 'Paranoid'.  
  
Sadistic would be my second choice, as they would undoubtedly find a fitting 'punishment' for my previous statement.  
  
*****  
  
My guard glances at me before lifting his hand to the palm scanner. With a flash of blue light, a click, and a buzz, we are in.  
  
The cool air in here contrasts sharply with the slightly warmer staler air from the hallway we had just left. Sterol and crisp, it is a smell common to all 45 sections. It carries the ambiance of professionalism.  
  
The sections' resemblance ends there.  
  
Section 22 is sectored off into four rooms; a large room surrounded by three glass rooms, labled "A" "B" and "C". As with every room I have ever been in, security cameras monitor these, providing further proof of my captors' paranoia.  
  
*****  
  
"A" houses the genetics lab. Even more sterol than the other two rooms, it contains a small segregated 'sanitation entrance', where new sanitation suits are donned and used suits are discarded. This is where the initial creating began and where the genetic manipulation continues.  
  
Two of my best assistants are in there now. Bowed diligently over their work.  
  
The one on the right is a tall, lanky redhead male. I know him as Neb. He almost constantly has a slight smirk on his face. Like he is on the verge of braking out in laughter. His merriment is carried thru his voice and flavoured with a thick Irish brogue One cannot help but like him.  
  
The one on the left reminds me of Gaz. She is called Jes. She is tall and slender with short violet hair, a breath taking beauty. Everything Gaz could be fifteen years from now.  
  
*****  
  
God, I hope not!  
  
Never let my children suffer this fate. Please, never let them.  
  
For the thousandth time I contemplate a plan to prevent them from forcing my children into this nightmare existence.  
  
For the thousandth time I reject my plan.  
  
For the thousandth time I fail to come up with something foolproof, something guaranteed. Something my captors will fail to notice until it's to late.  
  
*****  
  
Room "B" is where we conduct the experiments on our creation. It is bullet proof, fire proof, and basically houses any number of experimental devices. I am not allowed in that room. I monitor my assistants' actions from outside.  
  
*****  
  
"C" houses the finished products. Seven two-year old sheep and six two- month old lambs mutated by the introduction of genetically engineered Orb spider DNA.  
  
The result?  
  
The sheep produce wool consisting of spider like fibre. Strong, yet soft. It is easy to spin, soft to the touch and can deflect close range bullets. When spun into a rope one centimetre thick, it is stronger than a steel cable twice as thick, is more durable and provides more flexibility.  
  
I'm playing with the colour now. So far I have successfully produced black, white, red, brown and yellow spider-sheep.  
  
That is my excuse for keeping the project going. Unfortunately, I doubt I will be able to keep this ruse up long. The wool can easily be dyed. I hope my captors fail to realize this, at least for a little while longer.  
  
***** My guard takes his spot at the door as I walk towards the centre of the room.  
  
I stop after a few steps, my mind turning towards the tasks ahead, already concocting the report that will keep this project going a little longer.  
  
Glancing around the room I spot my other two assistants.  
  
The one known as Nik is hovering over one of the mainframe computers. Black-brown hair falling over onto a dark face, he is biting his lip again in concentration. He is the smartest of the group, quick to pick up on the subtle nuances of the project. His observations and suggestions have proved valuable beyond measure.  
  
*****  
  
The last of my assistants, Kabe, is with the sheep, sheering wool to spin for the next batch of experiments.  
  
He reminds me subtle of Dib. Raven hair against pale skin. But any physical resemblance ends there. He is stockier than Dib would ever hope to be. Fat mixed with muscle. His features are always a bit sad, almost the exact opposite of Neb. His sharp mind and quick speed betray his baby face looks. It is his mind and speed that remind me of my son.  
  
*****  
  
Dib, from what I am allowed to see, has developed amazing speed and coordination, a fact I tribute to his sister. I have seen him dodge more thrown objects than I can count, while verbally pleading or sparing with his younger sibling. My double stops this behavior almost immediately, but I see enough to know he has become very quick.  
  
*****  
  
Kabe is the first to notice my arrival. Acknowledging my presence with at nod, he finishes his work in a matter of seconds. Sheep # 4 is now a bare shadow of her former self. That won't last long, however, as the spider- sheep wool is quick to regenerate. In a few days, she will be ready to sheer again. He gathers his wool and places it in a box to be spun into a more manageable form for later.  
  
They don't spin the wool here. Instead the wool is processed outside of the labs and returned in a box in the form of string, small towel size rugs, or even shirts, ready for testing.  
  
*****  
  
With his task complete, Kabe exit room "C" and beelines towards me, a bit of a smile on his face.  
  
"Good Morning, Sir." He greets me.  
  
I smile and nod back.  
  
Since the incident, I don't speak unless absolutely necessary. I find it difficult to form words.  
  
"The sheep seem to be doing well." He continues his report. "Yesterday, after you left, we inseminated Sheep 2 and 4. We believe we were successful."  
  
He pauses and glances towards Nik, then looks back at me.  
  
"I had Nik order more alfalfa, and straw. We were running short."  
  
He pauses and looks at Nik again before continuing; "It should be arriving any minute now."  
  
The statement confuses me. Normally we have an overabundance of hay and grain. Hay arrives every Monday, and grain every Tuesday. I thoroughly believed today was Sunday, but with the life I lead, I could very well be wrong.  
  
With a shrug I nod my approval and smile again.  
  
Taking this as dismissal, he leaves.  
  
*****  
  
I head towards my desk and pick up the pen and notepad I use to communicate with my assistants.  
  
Then I turn my attention towards Nik, partially because he asked a question concerning the stability of the chemical we were planning to introduce to the newly weaved fibre today, but partially because I was curious as to what he was doing at the computer. The program he was using didn't look familiar.  
  
As if sensing my approach, he shuts the screen and pulls up a new one, before turning to me.  
  
Standing, he offers me a genuine smile.  
  
"Hello, Sir!"  
  
He has just enough time to greet me before a deafening boom drowns out his voice.  
  
The entire floor shakes.  
  
The sheep are bleating wildly, echoing my own fear and confusion.  
  
Before I know what is happening, Nik has me pinned to the floor.  
  
"Don't worry sir, we are with TFF" he breathes in my face, smelling slightly of bitter coffee and something I cannot identify, "Were here to liberate you from WWITS! We are getting you out of here."  
  
TFF? I have never heard of them.  
  
My captors display their display WWITS proudly on their navy uniforms, but I have yet to learn what the acronym stands for. I have a few Ideas.  
  
For a moment I'm lost in thought, my mind playing with acronyms.  
  
Then the rest of Nik's words sink in.  
  
"We are getting you out of here?"  
  
My fear increases.  
  
These are words of doom.  
  
I close my eyes and shake my head no. They will fail. The security is to tight here. They won't make it past the door. They never do.  
  
It never ceases to amaze me that with all of the continuously increasing security measures, abduction attempts still take place.  
  
More room-shattering booms. My eyes fly open as I hear glass shatter. I glance towards where my guard was standing post. He has a gas mask on and is heading in my direction with two more.  
  
It is obvious he is in on this.  
  
I turn my gaze towards room "A" and see Jes and Neb donning gas masks. Before I can turn to see Kabe, a hand lifts my head and slips a gas mask on me.  
  
Neb speaks to me through his own mask.  
  
"We didn't have time to test this sir, so you may want to hold the mouth piece tight to your face."  
  
I nod and he pushes back, releasing me. I climb shakily to my feet.  
  
With the sounds of explosions echoing in my ears I reevaluate my earlier take on my captors.  
  
Perhaps their paranoia is justified.  
  
Maybe they will succeed in 'liberating' me this time, but at what cost. Am I trading one prison for another?  
  
I almost long for this NOT to be happening. Almost.  
  
But with the call of freedom so very close, I'd be a fool to resist.  
  
Perhaps I can escape my 'would be' rescuers while they are moving me. I'll never know if I don't try.  
  
***** 


	3. The sound of silence

A/N: Welcome readers and reviewers! No real excuses for the delays. OT at work, illness, Holidays, the usual excuses, especially around this time of year. I've been away from the computer for a while. Haven't read, wrote, or reviewed in almost a month. (Maybe longer?!) GAH! And sorry, but the next few monthes promise the same, erratic computer use, spotty updates and reviews and such. (J. Random Lurker. Eh, I owe you some reviews. A lot actually. Maran Zelde, I owe you some also. Actually, I have sooo much reading and reviewing to do, sooo very much..Um, yeah, anyway:...) No worries though, I will not abandon my stories. Eventually everything will come to an end. I anticipate only two or three more chapters on this particular tale. ^-^  
  
Acknowledgements: Thank you and thank you again my dear readers and reviewers. May you find continual enjoyment in this tale. And reviewers, your words bring such warm and fuzzy feelings. ^-^ I luvs yas alls. Thank you Raven, only time will tell. Raina, I hope this continues to be original. Original is good. DibMagician. Thanks! You make me smile. J.Random Lurker. Yay! Fresh juicy fruit is good. So very good. Maran Zelde, I hope you find this chapter just as intriguing. Zukinn Chan, creepy absorbency? Never really thought of it that way. Glad you like it. Invader Mel, By Tallest I hope you continue to find this odd tale neat. What can I say, YOU GUYS ROCK!  
  
WARNING: Okay, a minor boost on the violence. The gore won't be too graphic, some blood, broken bones (actually, there weren't any broken bones in this particular chapter), even death, (but the death is insinuated rather than shown in detail). I still think it falls into the Rated PG -13 but if I'm wrong. PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I now know exactly where this story wants to go and how it is going to get there. Scary, eh?  
  
YAY! WE"RE DOOMED!  
  
Disclaimer: Invader Zim and such do not belong to me.  
  
Hope you enjoy!  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Three: Noon  
  
I have never thought of myself as a coward, but the fear I feel runs deep. Abduction attempts are a lose-lose situation. If we are caught, my would- be liberators are killed and I'm punished. If we aren't.I have no idea what will be in store for me.  
  
'This will not be a lose-lose situation. Not if I can escape both groups.'  
  
This becomes my mantra, as I fight to quell my fear, as I fight to remain optimistic.  
  
I will continually vie for freedom at any cost, freedom for my children, freedom for myself.  
  
This FFT has provided me an opportunity to achieve this goal and I am almost confident that these people will succeed in liberating me from my current captors.  
  
Almost.  
  
Just as I am pretty sure that if I can escape this building, I can escape my liberators.  
  
I will finally be able to take my children far from here and live in freedom.  
  
My children!  
  
My family!  
  
Free!  
  
FOREVER!  
  
I jump as a siren cuts through the sounds of the explosion, cutting through my thoughts.  
  
Instinctively, my hands reach up to protect my ears.  
  
The annoying wailing sound causes my fear to reach new heights. Shaking my already unstable faith in my would-be rescuers chances.  
  
*****  
  
Neb, Nik, Jes and my guard are standing by the door gesturing wild. Curious as to what they are saying, I shakily make my way towards them.  
  
I jump a second time as a hand touches my arm. Embarrassed by my own cowardly reaction I turn my head to see who it is.  
  
It's Kabe.  
  
"Put this on." Kabe yells at me through his mask as he shoves a large red sweater at me.  
  
I recognize it as one of the test sweaters that came in last week. He is wearing a similar test sweater and has several more sweaters slung over his arm.  
  
I nod and take the sweater from him then watch as he moves away from me, towards the others. I pull the rather roomy sweater over my head as he begins to hand the sweaters to the others. The sweater slips over the mask with some hesitation, but once it is settled over the uniform, I find its weight is comforting. This done, I join the others at the door.  
  
As I watch the others pull their sweaters over their heads, I can't help but wonder how they were able to keep these sweaters without my captors knowing. Test items were turned in on a nightly basis. Everything is always accounted for.  
  
Check and recheck.  
  
Count and recount.  
  
Just more evidence of my captors' obsessive paranoia.  
  
Whoever these TFF were, they planned their liberations in depth. Again I begin to feel that they might just pull this off.  
  
For the second time in so many minutes, a hand touches my arm. This time I don't embarrass myself by jumping again. It is Jes. She tugs my arm, demanding my attention.  
  
"Come with Step and I." She yells at me, nodding towards the guard. "I'll lead you."  
  
My guard's name is Step?! Having never heard his real name I always wondered what it was, but I never dreamed it would be something like that. I look at the guard standing near the door. He just doesn't look like a Step.  
  
Jes drags me towards the waiting group as Step opens the door to the hallway.  
  
A plume of white smoke billows in.  
  
Remembering Neb's warning I push the mask as close to my face as I can. Even through my protective lenses my eyes water and sting. Blinking helps a little, forcing tears to fall from my eyes and line the bottom of my lenses. To my luck, the anti-fog mechanism in my goggles still functions.  
  
Neb, Nik and Kabe are the first out the door, turning left, we follow immediately after them, turning to the right. Step grabs Jes's hand takes the lead. Jes squeezes my arm for a moment as she starts to follow Step, dragging me with her.  
  
*****  
  
The smoke in the hallway is blinding.  
  
I look behind me, searching for Neb, Nik, and Kabe, but they are nowhere to be seen, hidden in the ghostly swirls of smoke. I can't say this surprises me, as it is, I can barely make out the outline of my guard as he leads us down the hallway in the opposite direction.  
  
Despite my best attempts, I am not sure where they are taking me, the smoke makes any identifiable landmarks blurred and unreadable. And since I didn't count the steps when we left, I am totally at a loss. Totally at the mercy of their lead.  
  
Again I repeat my mantra: 'This will not be a lose-lose situation. Not if I can escape both groups.'  
  
'And I will.' I say this to myself, only half convinced.  
  
My children. I remind myself, anything for my children.  
  
There is no way I will give up, not when it means I will see them. Actually physically be with them. They are my world, my reason for existence.  
  
I don't know them, not like I would like to. It is hard to know them when I only see them thru the video link in my double's goggles, but I love my children without a doubt. And I would die for them without a moment's hesitation.  
  
If it meant they would never be forced to live this mockery of an existence, I would slit my own throat right here and now. I would stop their torment before it begins.  
  
*****  
  
Another explosion rocks the building, cutting through my thoughts, and I instinctively duck. This time it sounds as though it is right behind us. Jes squeezes my arm again, tugging harshly in a gesture to make me hurry. I comply without hesitation and soon, much to my surprise, find myself shuffled into a stairwell.  
  
I didn't even know there were stairwells here. I certainly have never seen one.  
  
Jes releases my arm and points towards Step. He has already started his ascent. I quickly follow him, with Jes close behind me.  
  
The smoke is not as heavy here, giving my poor eyes time to wash the sting away. I glance around the barren stairwell as I climb. A security camera meets us at each turn, mounted high in the corners. At first I am concerned. Waiting for someone to burst through the doors and impede our escape. Yet as we continue upward and nothing happens, my fear slowly subsides. A little.  
  
Step's lack of concern for the security cameras helps ease my fear, but does not vanquish it. I know he knows they are there. I've seen his head glance towards them periodically. He just doesn't seem to care. The FFT must have somehow disabled them.  
  
*****  
  
I try to drown out my fears by entertaining myself with thoughts of freedom, of seeing my children in person, rather than some video link thru my double's goggles. I daydream of becoming part of my children's' lives. Of being the father I long to be.  
  
My son, Dib, with his handsome big head and his insatiable appetite for the paranormal.  
  
I love to listen to him talk about Zim. I love to listen to him talk about anything. He is intelligent, insightful, interesting.  
  
Unlike that joke of a father figure, my double, I listen to my son. I hear what he has to say.  
  
I cannot wait to actually talk with him, to hold a real conversation with him. I will tell him how proud I was of him. I will tell him paranormal is a legitimate science. It is merely as quantum physics was before it became accepted into the scientific community. I will tell him to follow his dreams, no matter where they take him. I will tell him I believe in him.  
  
And my daughter.  
  
Gaz.  
  
With her beautiful purple hair, and the lovely honey eyes I seldom really see anymore.  
  
She is nearly always lost in the cybernetic depths of a hand held Gameslave when they let me see her, so far removed from the real world.  
  
I will show Gaz the joys of real life. Show her that while cyberspace is fun, the real world can be just as captivating. I will teach her how to live.  
  
***** I am not blind to my children's needs as that fraud is.  
  
Gaz loves that joke of a father they've given her.  
  
I see it in her eyes when he pays the least bit of attention to her.  
  
And Dib? I've seen enough to know how he longs for his father's acceptance, if not his approval.  
  
I hate that imposter.  
  
He lives MY life.  
  
Ignores MY children.  
  
Dooming them to a childhood no one should have.  
  
No child deserves my childhood.  
  
No child should be without a loving, responsible parent.  
  
Especially not MY children.  
  
I've lived my children's lives. I grew up not knowing my real father. Merely some sick substitute they provided me with.  
  
Neglectful.  
  
Arrogant,  
  
Manipulative.  
  
That was how I knew my father.  
  
My fake one.  
  
I met my real dad two days after they harvested me. I was introduced to him in the casual evil fashon of my captors.  
  
He looked as if someone had beaten him within an inch of his life. They probably had.  
  
The instant I saw him, he was an enigma.  
  
I didn't know who he was at first, but instinctively I knew he was someone important to my life. It was as though he was the last piece of the puzzle known as my life, the one piece that would solve the mysteries in my life and cause everything to make sense.  
  
When they said he was my father, it fit. The puzzle was complete. Well perhaps not complete, but at least the answer to some of my more pressing questions. His introduction, however, opened a plethora of questions I may never find answers to.  
  
Who am I?  
  
Who are our captives?  
  
Why were we subjected to such a miserable life?  
  
And the list goes on.  
  
I worked beside my father for two days.  
  
I asked my father these questions. I don't think he knew the answers. If he did, he took them to the grave.  
  
At first I resented my father, as undoubtedly my children will resent me.  
  
When he thought they couldn't hear, he would whisper to me about how much he loved me. How much he cared.  
  
Yet my captors countered his claims of affection, continually feeding me lies, and in my depraved, influential state, I believed them.  
  
My father told me they stole me from him.  
  
My captors told me he abandoned me. Left me to fend for myself. My famous 'fake' father adopted me out of the kindness of his heart.  
  
Yeah. His cold unfeeling heart.  
  
My biological father told me he tried to see me but they prevented him from doing so.  
  
My captors told me when they asked if my biological father wanted to see me, he would say no.  
  
*****  
  
A side ache is growing at an alarming rate, braking me from my daydreams and forcing me into the here and now. Taking deep breaths to try and dull the pain, I steadily follow Step.  
  
Heh.  
  
Follow step.  
  
Step climbing steps.  
  
I smile. I cannot help but do so. I've always liked humour.  
  
Take it where you can find it!  
  
For a moment my mood is lightened, but it doesn't last long.  
  
I fall into another daydream, this one darker than the last.  
  
Revenge.  
  
Visions of destruction infest my mind.  
  
Mass destruction at a grand scale.  
  
Until neither my captors or this prison are left standing.  
  
I cannot think of my captors without enmity.  
  
I long to destroy this nightmare existence and all it holds.  
  
To destroy the WWITS.  
  
To destroy the cage they keep me in.  
  
So they can never enslave me again.  
  
Most importantly, so they can NEVER touch my children.  
  
Sick anticipation floods my very soul and I cannot help but to smile.  
  
Someday I will free us from this retched fate.  
  
Perhaps someday very soon.  
  
I can wait.  
  
I have no choice.  
  
*****  
  
I am not sure how much time has passed. We tread steadily upward; the sound of the siren drowning out the sound of our footfalls. My breath is ragged through the mask and I wish I can take it off. I dare not though. Despite the thinning smoke, neither Step nor Jes have taken theirs off. They still don't trust the air, so I shouldn't either.  
  
As we climb, the side ache steadily grows, reaching a point of where it distracts me from my daydreams and threatening to bring me to my knees. With my restricted lifestyle, I am not in the best of shape and by my count; we have already climbed ten floors. If not for the continuous prodding of Jes, I would have stopped long ago. I am thankful, however, that this trip has been uneventful so far. I can only hope it continues to be so.  
  
*****  
  
It is around the 37B Stairwell that I collapse, landing hard on my hands and knees. I stay there for a moment, trying to catch my breath. Stars dance around the corners of my eyes, threatening a blackout.  
  
I feel a hand touch my shoulder.  
  
Embarrassed, I turn around and sit on a stair.  
  
Jes is kneeling beside me and though I cannot see her face behind the goggles and the mask, I can tell she is concerned. My heart flutters at the though of someone being so concerned for me. It is almost frightening. I hold up both hands in apology, showing her that I am fine. Internally I am chastising myself for being so weak. Jes barely seems winded as she studies me.  
  
She glances past me, up at Step. I turn and watch as she quickly climbs the stairs to where Step continues to climb. He is unaware of my pathetic collapse. Jes grabs Steps arm, stopping him. She points towards me and he nods. He heads down to where I sit, still gasping for air. He watches me for a moment, allowing me to gain some composure before offering his hand. Reluctantly I take it. I am still in pain, still winded, but I feel a little better from the rest.  
  
I flinch involuntarily as Step hooks his arm around me, supporting my weight. After a moments hesitation I wrap my arm around his broad back. I am still to weak to protest such needed support.  
  
We begin to climb again.  
  
*****  
  
By the 23B stairwell, I gain my second wind, relishing the endorphins as they start to work their wonder on my throbbing side.  
  
I free myself from Steps support. He glances at me questioningly but I give him thumbs up, showing that I am okay. He watches me for a moment more before nodding then starts up the stairs again. I follow close behind.  
  
We barely make it to the 22B stairwell when the alarm stopped.  
  
Collectively we stopped at the sudden lack of sound, a sense of uneasiness filling the stairwell.  
  
Without warning Step turns around and grabs my shoulder.  
  
"Down." He yells, pointing down the flight of stairs we had just climbed. "They're coming. They know we're here."  
  
He barely finishes the words before the sound of footsteps reach my ears.  
  
Without hesitation I turn and follow Jes to the 23B landing. Step pushes past us and opens the secured door. After a quick glance into the hallway he pushes Jes and I through.  
  
As I stumble through the doorway I hear a volley of gunfire. I turn to see Step slam the door shut and punch several keys on the security pad. One hand is holding the left side of his face, over his ear. Immediately I notice the blood trickling down his neck, staining his brown sweater black.  
  
He has been shot, and from the amount of blood spilling, it looks serious.  
  
Instinctively I go to him, my thoughts on how to stop the bleeding.  
  
To my surprise he grabs my arm and turns me around. Forcefully he pulls me towards where Jes is. Jes takes my arm as he releases his grip.  
  
Within seconds a gun is in his hand. He hands it to Jes who takes it in her free hand.  
  
"Take the professor to shaft 23B East. It has been secured as a backup. It is more dangerous, but should take you to ground level." As he speaks he pulls a second gun from one of his hidden pockets.  
  
He glances at the door we had just came thought. "I will be with you shortly."  
  
Jes nods at him before pulling me quickly down the hallway.  
  
As Jes begins to pull me around a corner I glance back at Step. He is bleeding at an alarming rate.  
  
I wince as he shoots the doors keypad. No one will be going though that door any time soon.  
  
Seconds before I round the corner, Step turns and looks at me, his solemn expression providing no solace in this time of turmoil.  
  
I get the feeling that this will be the last time I ever see him.  
  
Another explosion rings in my ears.  
  
This one was close.  
  
In the hallway where we just were, in the hallway where Step was.  
  
I hate when my premonitions are correct.  
  
*****  
  
I can hear commotion and yelling voices flooding into the hallway we just left and my fear grows almost to the point of where it nearly incapacitates me. If not for Jes dragging me behind her, I would have froze in place, letting them come. She urges me along with a strong silent grip, forcing us to run from the sounds behind us.  
  
The sounds in the hallway behind us fade as we speed along, twisting and turning through the labyrinth towards a destination only Jes seems to know.  
  
Even so, my optimism is hard pressed.  
  
Step's death forces me to face the reality of the situation.  
  
We are in the belly of the beast. Two nearly defenseless people against countless armed WWITS Personnel romping in their own playground. How could we possibly make it to freedom?  
  
We take several more turns as I feed my growing pessimism.  
  
The end is near.  
  
We will be captured.  
  
Jes will die.  
  
I might very well die today.  
  
Yeah, if I'm lucky.  
  
Heh!  
  
Always the optimist.  
  
No.  
  
I shake my head, trying to clear it of such negativity.  
  
We will not fail.  
  
We cannot fail for the sake of my children.  
  
Yet I cannot escape my growing doubts.  
  
Especially as the sound of footsteps make their rapid approach.  
  
***** 


	4. Colours of death

A/N: Welcome readers and reviewers! Another update at my usual incredible snails pace. Eh, not much to say here except "THANKS! I LUVS YOU ALL!"  
  
A/N#2: Thank you Maran Zelde. I am honoured you will let me use that line from 'Robin Zim' for 'Dreams.' I have a place for it, but not for a while yet. ^-^  
  
Acknowledgements: Thank you, my readers and reviewers. As always, my dear reviewers a special thanks. I always enjoy your words of encouragement. TwIsTeD ToAsTeR, (Luv the name.) ^-^ I'm glad you like it. Thank you for favoritizing this. I never thought of the assistants that way before. If that is the case, you probably will be very angry with me very soon. Apologies in advance for any sadness that may come. Maran Zelde, since Bubee and I can't have chitlen, I guess I know how Membrane feels, to an extent. Makes it easier to write. I'm glad I can keep enough suspense to keep you coming back. ^-^ DibMagician, I am glad you love it so far. I hope I can continue to keep you enthralled. Waffle Toast, thank you for adding this to your favorites list. I am truly honoured. Thank you for pointing out my use of thru and through, I realize it is not a proper spelling. Sort of like nite and night. For some reason, the spellcheck misses that. Thank your for the compliments. They make me very happy. Ces-Kirby. Cliffhangers are fun. Very fun. I luv when I can squeeze one in. (Yes, these are horns holding up this halo, why do you ask?! (Smiles evilly)) Raina, I haven't given up this tale, and I won't. I have made a promise to myself, and an unspoken promise to you readers and reviewers, to finish this, 'Dreams' and any other tales I decide to write no matter what. Unless, of course, I die. If I do die, (if I don't update in over 4 monthes just review or email me and ask, if I don't respond, chances are I'm dead.) then by all means feel free to take over and finish.it. I hate leaving things unfinished. Don't worry though; I don't plan to die anytime soon. (As if any of us do.) Dark Destiny, I am honoured you find my writing beautiful. It does not come as easy as it seems. My reviewers, I want to thank all of you again for your support. Your reviews motivate me and make me all tingly and happy.  
  
WARNING: (If you've read this before, you can skip it. Same as last chapter.) Okay, a minor boost on the violence. The gore won't be too graphic, some blood, broken bones (actually, there weren't any broken bones in this particular chapter), even death, (but the death is insinuated rather than shown in detail). I still think it falls into the Rated PG -13 but if I'm wrong. PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I now know exactly where this story wants to go and how it is going to get there. Scary, eh?  
  
YAY! WE"RE DOOMED!  
  
Disclaimer: Invader Zim and such do not belong to me.  
  
Hope you enjoy!  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Four: Early Afternoon  
  
Almost in a panic Jes turns and leads us around a corner.  
  
It seems our luck has ran out.  
  
The hallway is short, leading to a dead end. With the footsteps sounding closer by the second, it is too late to choose another.  
  
As we travel down the hallway, away from the sound of the approaching footsteps, Jes starts trying to open every door we pass. In less than a second, I am helping her. She hits one side, while I hit the other. Three doors apiece. It is an exercise in futility however, as every door we try is securely locked.  
  
I reach the end of the hallway first, where the last door promises little hope of escape. Clinging to that fragile hope I reach for the door handle.  
  
Desperate, I whisper an almost silent prayer.  
  
"Please open. For my children, for Jes, please let it open."  
  
If it doesn't open, we're doomed.  
  
I hear Jes move behind me and glance towards her. Her back is towards me, facing the hallway entrance. Her gun is drawn and ready.  
  
I turn back towards the door and jiggle the handle.  
  
Locked.  
  
End of the line.  
  
We're doomed.  
  
I hear the footsteps stop at the entrance of the hallway and I close my eyes and wait. Wait for the gunfire I know is coming. Wait for the end.  
  
It doesn't come.  
  
Instead I hear Jes' muffled scream of "Nik" and "Kabe".  
  
I open my eyes in disbelief. I seriously thought I'd never see them again.  
  
*****  
  
Jes grabs me by my arm and drags me down the hall. As we approach, I notice that both Nik and Kabe are splattered in blood, almost as if someone has sprayed them with a large squirt gun filled with it. Both of them have their masks off and they are panting as if they had just finished a marathon. Fresh blood is smeared across their faces, as if they tried to remove it with a blood soaked rag. From the looks of their blood soaked sweater arms, they probably did. Kabe's pants are torn and heavy with fresh blood oozing from a huge gash in his upper thigh. His black hair is pressed flat against his skull, more from sweat than the blood. For a frightening moment, I see Dib where Kabe stands, Dib, Kabe's age, with all of Kabe's wounds. I shudder involuntarily and shake my head to clear it of the nightmare vision, then glance towards Nik. He appears to be in better shape, with no visible wounds. I can't help but wonder about Neb.  
  
Nik answers my unasked question by way of greeting. "I'm sorry Jess." He says touching Jes' arm. "Neb is dead."  
  
I hear Jes draw a shuddered breath from behind her mask.  
  
"I'm sorry Jes." Nik says again, gathering a shaking Jes in his arms. "He told me to tell you he loves you."  
  
I stand there, uncomfortable. I'm not sure what to do. I feel horrible about the news. I truly liked Neb.  
  
Upon reflection I realize now that she and Neb had been more than casual acquaintances. They were always working near each other in the lab whenever they could. With my limited experience with relationships, I never really thought about it. I never put two and two together. Until now!  
  
The sudden realization causes me to catch my breath.  
  
I am the cause of all of this.  
  
Unwittingly, I killed Neb.  
  
I killed Step.  
  
If they hadn't tried to liberate me, they would still be alive.  
  
Part of me tries to rationalize that I never asked to be liberated, but it doesn't wash away the guilt.  
  
*****  
  
In a sudden frenzy of movement Jes pulls away from Neb and spins around towards me. Something hard and cold hits the left side of my face, shattering the left lens of my goggles and cracking the right. I drop to the ground from the force, my right hand stopping my fall as my left hand rises to protect my head. My left ear is ringing from the blow. My gas mask has provided some protection from the sudden attack but not much. Inside the mask, blood streams from my nose, and is beginning to line the bottom of my mask.  
  
Dazed, I look up at Jes. Through a pain induced fog, a cracked lens and spinning vision I notice a gun pointed at my head. As I look past I see Gaz, years from now, her squinting eyes make even narrower with hate.  
  
My breath freezes for a moment, as time seems to stop.  
  
"You failed us." She mouths at me.  
  
"I know." I try to say. It comes out like 'I ngo' though a gravelly voice harsh from disuse.  
  
I glance at the floor for a moment, mustering up courage.  
  
"I'm so-ee!"  
  
I look back up as I tell her the only thing I can, that I'm sorry. I am so very sorry I failed you and your brother.  
  
Gaz is no longer there. Jes is holding the gun, her face unreadable behind the mask and goggles.  
  
"I'm so-ee!" I say again, quieter. She has every right to kill me.  
  
Slowly, I drop my gaze, lower my arm and wait for my deserved death.  
  
As I wait, I think of my children, the vision of Gaz still fresh in my mind.  
  
My deepest sorrow, my deepest regret, is for my children. Destined to live this nightmare existence. I will never see them again. I have failed them. They will never have a chance for a normal life. For the life of freedom they rightly deserve.  
  
"It's not his fault." I hear Nik say. "Neb chose this mission and so did you. You both knew the dangers before you came here. If you kill him, all of our work, Neb's death, everything, will have been in vain."  
  
"I don't care." I hear Jes reply through clenched teeth.  
  
"You do care or you wouldn't be here." Kabe interjects in a voice so soft I almost miss it through the ringing in my head.  
  
I chance glancing up. The gun pointed at my head seems to shake.  
  
"Would Neb want you to give up?" Nik asks.  
  
I watch in fear-drenched amazement as Jes first lowers the gun, then drops it. She turns and gives Nik a tight hug. I can hear her sobs though the mask. A heart breaking sound that I am the cause of. I still don't know why she didn't kill me.  
  
*****  
  
Kabe reaches down and picks up the discarded gun before coming towards me. Instinctively I pull away. For a moment I foolishly expect him to finish the job Jes had begun. Instead he quietly shushes me and tells me its okay before grabbing my gas mask and gently removing it from my head.  
  
Despite his gentleness, I reel from the pain. Darkness reaches the perimeter of my vision as stars dance in the forefront. By past experience I know this is bad. I know that I am on the verge of passing out and take a few shaky deep blood flavoured breaths, struggling to remain conscious.  
  
I watch as Kabe reaches into a pocket located somewhere under his sweater. He opens a small packet and pulls out a small orange pill capsule.  
  
"This will help you." He tells me, as he carefully breaks the capsule in two. A tiny amount of white powder falls from it. Taking my sore jaw in his hand he tilts my head back, and with gently persuasion he forces the remaining powder into my mouth. I gasp as fire seems to spread through my body, flushing away the pain and filling me with an odd sense of vigor.  
  
I know this feeling.  
  
The package is different, but the content is the same.  
  
I created this powder.  
  
It acts as a painkiller and invigorator. It is safe enough that if accidentally consumed by a healthy person, it would not physically harm them, but rather give them a slight euphoric high. Undoubtedly another less than honourable use of my creation.  
  
Initially I had been told that its intended use was to allow terminally ill patients freedom to enjoy their last days before their illness claims them. That was before my captors had given up the pretense of any honourable intentions. It wasn't until I had completed the powder that I was told of its true intended use. It was created for injured soldiers, to allow them to continue to fight in the heat of battle.  
  
"Professor," Kabe's voice draws me back from my slight daydream. "Are you ready to go?"  
  
I realize the ringing in my head has lessened drastically. Unfortunately, the blood running from my nose hasn't.  
  
I nod as I gingerly touch my nose, sniffing back the blood and swallowing the salty metallic tasting substance.  
  
I take his offered hand, still unsure of myself despite my newfound strength.  
  
He pulls me up with little effort despite the deep gash in his leg. I don't doubt that he has already taken one of the pills he has given me.  
  
Kabe releases my hand and watches me for a moment, before turning his attention towards Jes and Nik.  
  
I glance at Jes and Nik.. Jes has her goggles and gas mask off. Nik is wiping tears from her cheeks as he whispers something to her. She looks towards me. Tear stained eyes unreadable. I quickly turn away. I do not want to invoke her wrath. I don't want to die.  
  
Not yet.  
  
Not while there's hope for my children.  
  
*****  
  
"Lets go." Nik says, his voice firm and commanding.  
  
I watch as he wraps an arm around Jes' waist for a moment and guides her to the hallway entrance.  
  
"We've been here to long as it is." Nik continues. "If they don't know we're here already, they will soon. It's time to get out of here."  
  
Kabe and I follow.  
  
As he leads us, Nik tells us the plan.  
  
"I was able to create a false feed to the cameras on this floor and several other floors. Kabe found a service elevator not far from here and was able to bypass the security lock down. We're not sure, but we think it opens directly to an open shipping dock. When we reach the top, I will notify the van of our location. It will take a few moments for WWITS to break the code so we should have more than enough time to get the professor into the van then head for home." Neb pauses for a moment as he glances down a hallway. After a second we start walking again and he continues. "Neb, Kabe and I successfully set the bombs. When the professor is secure, we'll blow this place."  
  
Blow this place.  
  
No more WWITS.  
  
My children will be free.  
  
I cannot begin to tell you how happy this makes me. It is a dream come true. It is almost to much to hope for. With this place gone, I can die a happy man. My children will never have to worry about living this nightmare life. I don't care what my future holds as long as my children are free. 


	5. Fragile feel of freedom

A/N: Welcome readers and reviewers! Another update at my usual incredible snails pace. My work currently did a redistribution of work and downsized. I am now a member of the (un) gainfully unemployed. YAY! Plus, I am the maid of honor for Spunky's wedding so I've been pretty busy lately. *Also, sorry for the delay in reviews. Eh, not much else to say here except "THANKS! I LUVS YOUS ALLS!"  
  
A/N II: I wanted to centre the poster script, but am not sure how. If anyone knows, please let me know. Thanks!  
  
Acknowledgements: My readers and reviewers, I thank you! I can never truly express my gratitude for your patience with this and the other tale. You all truly honour me. Thank you Maran Zelde! I hope this sheds a little light on the unknown. I truly intend to answer all questions before the tale is complete. Twisted toaster, thanks to you, I will never be able to say the word fic without thinking of its German meaning. Hehe! It is amazing what you learn on ffn. Thank you! And Thank you nitnit, for your review. I hope you are still with us on chapter 5. Pxy:WPI, You flatter me. Thank you! I am grateful to know that I am able to achieve the goal I have set out to accomplish. I apologize for my slow postings. Raina, Thank you! I hope this chapter is a bit better rounded. I figure, as you surmised, that his children are the only think that has kept him this sane so far. His lifelines to existence as it were. Without them, he really wouldn't have much to live for. Your inquiry should be answered soon. DibMagician, Thank you! No, you do not sound like a broken record. It thrills me to no end knowing that you are enjoying this tale so much. I truly enjoy hearing your praise. It gives me motivation to strive for perfection. I may never achieve it, but I can certainly strive for it. Senri, Thank you! But please breath, and don't fall off your seat. I have no desire to be the cause of injuries. ^_- hehe! Dry joke. Sorry! I have strived for plausibility, and am glad you feel I have achieved it. I want to stay as close to the universe as possible, but tweak it enough to make it, well, different. Again I apologize for my periodic postings. I never know when I will be able to write and poste.  
  
WARNING: Okay, another boost on the violence. Dead people shown. Not zombies, just dead people. After they have died. The gore isn't too graphic. Oh, and explosions too. And swearing, not much though. Again, I still think it falls into the Rated PG –13 but if I'm wrong. PLEASE LET ME KNOW. Gory, neh???  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned Invader Zim, there would still be cartoons. But I don't so there's not.  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Five: Early Afternoon  
  
By the time Nik finishes telling us his plans we have reached the elevator.  
  
Both Jes and Nik enter the elevator first. I follow close behind.  
  
I watch the ground as I enter, not wanting to meet Jes' tearstained eyes. I can feel her eyes on me. I can feel her cold hatred towards me, created by my transgression. I am responsible for the death of the one she loves. I shudder involuntarily and wrap my arms around me, as if that would keep out the emotional cold.  
  
Kabe enters shortly after me. In silence we stand facing the elevator's back door.  
  
I raise my head, as I begin to feel slightly dizzy when the elevator begins its quick ascent. I attribute the dizziness to the elevator's quick rise.  
  
Thankfully my nose has finally stopped bleeding. I am forced to breath though my nose, but it is better than dripping and swallowing blood. The side of my face has swollen slightly, but the medicine running through me has numbed all pain. Fortunately it doesn't appear to have affected my thought process.  
  
I catch a glimpse of Jes watching me out the corner of my eye. I quickly look down again, not wanting to see her. Not wanting to provoke her anger. I have learned long ago not to look them in the eye. It only invites trouble.  
  
The elevator ride is mercifully short. I spend the time leaning against the wall and watching the floor.  
  
In my mind I run through my limited options. If I get into the van, I will have no hope for escape. I will be at the mercy of FFT, facing an unknown fate. I must somehow Not get into the van. With them keeping me in such close proximity, I'm not sure how to do that. Especially since they are armed and I have no defense. Not knowing what the future will bring, I can only hope. For now, I follow them. We have to get out of the building first. And when we're out, well, I hope that I will see an opportunity for freedom. I hope that God is on my side when the time comes.  
  
*****  
  
A soft ding brings me out of my thoughts and my hopes sink a little. The door opens into a red-lit hallway, rather than the shipping dock as we had hoped. I wonder briefly if Nik has a good backup plan.  
  
I hear Nik quietly swear as he leans forward to glance out of the elevator.  
  
Left then right.  
  
He quickly pulls his head back in and pushes the button that keeps the door open. Looking at Jes he points his gun towards the ceiling. He lifts his free hand and points to Jes, then points two fingers to his left. He points to himself and then the right.  
  
Outside of the elevator, I hear someone calling out.  
  
"Hey, you! Step out of the elevator and identify yourself."  
  
Nik looks at Kabe pointing at me. Kabe nods. Nik glances at me to make sure I understand. I nod. I am to stay with Kabe.  
  
I inwardly cringe as Kabe gives Jes her gun back. Unarmed, Jes is a potential danger, but armed, she is deadly. Jes doesn't look at me as she takes it. Instead she checks the gun with a stern face. Her inspection finished, she looks at Nik and nods. Nik nods, then begins to count on his fingers. I hear footsteps approaching as he lifts each finger.  
  
.........1  
  
.........2  
  
.........3  
  
"Hey!" The voice begins again.  
  
On the count of three Jes and Nik lean out the elevator, guns coughing in five quick barks.  
  
The silence that follows is disturbing.  
  
Nik steps completely out of the elevator, motioning for the rest of us to follow. I glance around the hallway as we exit the elevator. Big mistake.  
  
Three bodies lay bleeding to the right of me. All relatively close to the elevator. On the left are two more, slightly farther away. I shudder and look away. I don't want to see this. I don't want this plastered in my mind. It is already to late, however. I will never be able to free myself from the visual nightmare of all this carnage. In all of the prior 'rescue' attempts I had never witnessed so much death.  
  
Movement to my right catches my eye and I watch numbly as Jes reaches down and takes one of the guns from a nearby corpse. She glances up at me with an unreadable expression.  
  
Inwardly, I feel like a monster.  
  
I am the reason for these deaths.  
  
So much death.  
  
I look away from her quickly. Briefly I close my eyes, feeling nauseated from the scene before me. It is a bad move as my dizziness increases, causing me to almost fall. I open my eyes and stumble forward slight, trying to catch my balance. Kabe grabs my arm to steady me.  
  
I chastise myself for being so weak. I have seen plenty of corpses in my lifetime, both in my educational experience and while living in this hell. Though by the time I'd see them, they were several days old. Not freshly killed and drenched in their own blood.  
  
Briefly I wonder if all of this is really worth it. I may have not directly asked for it, but I didn't protest. I have chosen to go with them, hoping for a chance to be with my children. To see my children live a life free of all that I have suffered.  
  
Are Step and Neb's death worth this freedom?  
  
I may not trust them enough to stay with them, but it doesn't mean I don't like these people who are liberating me. I didn't intend for them to die. I didn't want them to die.  
  
Are the lives of these five strangers worth it?  
  
I hate my life. I hate my captors. But is the chance at freedom worth the deaths it costs to obtain it?  
  
I know the answer. For my children, there could be no other.  
  
Yes.  
  
But only for them.  
  
I justify Step and Neb's death through the lives of my children. I justify the deaths of these five strangers through the lives of my children as well. Of all these people, my children are the only true innocents in all of this. They have the right to choose their own lives, on their own terms, not as some slave in this living hell.  
  
I glance at Nik. He is checking his newly acquired gun. Kabe is the only one who hasn't picked up a new weapon.  
  
Kabe and I.  
  
I glance at Kabe and find he is watching me intently, much like my captors do when they are with me. His scrutiny makes me uneasy and again I wonder about my liberators. If I fail to escape the van, will I be exchanging one prison for another?  
  
A shiver runs down my spine as another thought enters my mind.  
  
Do they know of my children?  
  
I pray that they don't. I will gladly live imprisoned in a new nightmare knowing my children are free.  
  
*****  
  
Kabe tugs on my arm slightly, pulling me towards a door Nik has opened. As we walk, I focus on the door, avoiding the bodies on the ground, avoiding Jes' eyes as we pass her. I hear her silently following us. Nik quickly closes the door after Jes enters, locking it.  
  
Through a cracked lens and a swelling eye, I take in the room. The room is an office, and from the looks of it, an office for a person in high standing. Dark and rich in colour. I am immediately drawn to the windows. The blinds are pulled tight, leaving the room dark. I long to look out the closed windows, knowing that to do so would put us all in jeopardy. It has been so long since I've seen the outside world with my own eyes, to actually feel fresh air on my face. Only the glow of a large digital clock lights the room. The clock reads 8:00.  
  
This isn't right. It should be early afternoon.  
  
For a moment I think the clock must be wrong. Yet the room is too dark for curtains alone. It must be dark outside.  
  
Confused, I turn towards Kabe for an explanation, but find I will have to wait. He is in deep discussion with Nik and Jes.  
  
Knowing I will not be able to see the outside world yet, I decide to take in the room through the dim light from the clock.  
  
A large cherry desk sits in a corner, framed by short cherry lawyers bookshelves and cherry filing cabinets adorned with various award trophies on top. Behind the desk a large poster dominates the wall, immediately drawing my attention.  
  
WORLD WIDE INTERNATIONAL TECHNOLOGY SERVICES  
  
***  
OFFICIAL SUPPORTERS  
OF  
*  
  
PROBING THE MEMBRANE OF SCIENCE  
  
***  
staring  
  
"The man without whom this would falls into chaos!"  
* And *  
"The inventor of Super Toast!™"  
  
PROFESSOR MEMBRANE!"  
  
A picture of my imposter stands poised underneath the gold embedded lettering, holding a miniature version of earth in his hand. WWITS is displayed within the miniature earth.  
  
I stare at the poster as emotions I can't pinpoint bombard me.  
  
Envy? Anger? Jealousy? Hatred?  
  
Most likely a mixture of all above, and some.  
  
A throat clears, causing me to look towards the sound.  
  
Nik smiles at me sadly.  
  
I glance at Jes and Kabe. Both are watching me intently, their expressions unreadable. I turn back towards the poster for a moment, still trying to interpret my collage of emotions before turning my back on the picture. I turn my attention towards Nik, waiting to see what he has planned. I don't have to wait long.  
  
*****  
  
"You are to stay with Kabe." Nik instructs me. "Jes and I are going to scout this level for the best possible escape."  
  
I nod.  
  
Opening the door a crack, Nik takes a quick survey on the status of the hallway. Upon finding it empty; he and Jes quickly disappear through the door.  
  
Almost immediate, Kabe heads towards the desk and starts rummaging through it. I have no idea what he is looking for, so I stand there and watch him, hoping he will shed some light. He doesn't.  
  
If I still had a tongue, a good working tongue, I would have asked.  
  
I hate taking now.  
  
I never use to. I was as talkative as Dib on a good day. Expressing my theories and plans, describing my discoveries and inventions. I would talk to anyone who would listen. If no one was around, I'd talk to myself.  
  
Not now though. My speech is an embarrassment. Now I only speak when I have to. My captors like to force me to talk, so they can mock and ridicule me.  
  
"Wooo! The great professor, genius of All the world, can't even say 'hello'!"  
  
"Say 'You're my masters!' now. Say 'You own my life!' Say it, say it!"  
  
"Say 'uncle!"  
  
I hate them!  
  
I close my eyes to stifle off remembered shame and embarrassment, only to cause myself current shame and embarrassment as I loose my balance and fall, undignified, to the floor. I land on my side. Pain flares through my head as it hits against the floor, but the drug coursing through my veins quickly overrides it. Mentally I thank Kabe for giving me the pill.  
  
I roll over on my back and open my eyes seconds before Kabe reaches me, only to quickly close them again as dizziness and nausea threaten to overwhelm me.  
  
Kabe helps me to a sitting position.  
  
I open my eyes again, the dizziness passing, and watch as he opens his mouth to speak. Before he can ask any questions, a humming sound emits from somewhere under his sweater. He pulls out a small round device and presses a button. Nik's voice sounds through the other end, punctuated by the sound of small explosions.  
  
"Get the professor out of there NOW!" Nik's voice practically screams from the small device. "Bust open a window and leave through there."  
  
There is a bit of static for a moment, punctuated by a few gunshots, and then Nik's voice continues.  
  
"I've called the van. It should be heading your way. LEAVE NOW!"  
  
Kabe gives his acknowledgement through the device than tucks it away. With a little effort, he helps me stand.  
  
He is busy tring to open the window. Finding no opening, he pulls his gun and shoots a multitude of holes into it, weakening it. When the gun empties he quickly replaces the gun clip.  
  
To help, I grab a global shaped awards trophy from the top of one of the shelves and smash it though the glass. It shatters with a satisfying crash, leaving a large hole. Kabe picks up a similar trophy and together we clear a hole large enough for both of us to crawl through.  
  
Kabe crawls out first, then watches as I make my way through the window. The ruff edges of the glass leave tiny cuts on our hands and pants. I am thankful for our sweaters and whimsically wish we had spider-wool suits rather than just sweaters.  
  
*****  
  
Once outside, we hug the wall.  
  
I try to casually take in my surroundings, trying to figure out a plan of escape. Unfortunately, Kabe seems to sense my intentions. He rests a firm grip on my arm, shaking his head no.  
  
The building we are leaning against is only two stories tall. It's surface stones are a stylish brick, adorned with smoky-opaque, one-way windows. From the looks of it, the building is rather old and unassuming. Hardly the place one would think harbored prisoners. The parking lot in front of us is mostly bare and is surrounded by dense bushes and shrubs. I spot a few trees here and there.  
  
I decide to try and brake from Kabe's grip and head towards the bushes. With any luck, they will assist me in my escape, yet before I can muster up the courage to flee, there is a screech to our right and a black van skids around the corner. Kabe grabs my arm even tighter and pulls us away from the wall, waving his free hand wildly, trying to get the driver's attention. It must have worked, for the van immediately started to slow down.  
  
A dilemma boils in my mind as I watch the van approach. I don't want to get into the van. If I do, I will be at the mercy of my liberators. With Kabe's stern grip on my arm, I'm not even sure how I can escape. If I do escape him, how will my rescuers react? Run over me? Shoot me?  
  
I am saved from the questions as I watch the van burst into flames, turning into a rolling fireball.  
  
"SHIT!" Kabe screams turning from the burning vehicle and running in the opposite direction, pulling me with him.  
  
Gun drawn Kabe skids to a quick stop at the corner, with a quick glance he continues towards the shrubs with me in tow. Within seconds we are hiding in the bushes.  
  
Shaking, Kabe pulls out the round device from earlier. He tries to hail Nik. Failing that, he tries to hail Jes. Silence on both parts.  
  
Grimly he turns towards me, his face reading a silent resolve.  
  
"Professor," he begins, pointing the gun towards me. "I'm sorry. I really do like you, but in the unlikely even that we are unable to secure you for ourselves, we are ordered to destroy you, making sure no one else has access to you. It is nothing personal. Just business."  
  
Shock and confusion runs though me.  
  
'Business? What did he mean by business?'  
  
"Why?" I croak.  
  
I really want to know what was going on. I need to know.  
  
Silently I plea, 'if I am going to die, at least give me that?'  
  
"FREEZE!" A voice screams, causing Kabe to look away from me.  
  
With Kabe distracted, I take the only opportunity given. Scrambling to my feet, I run. I have no idea where I'm headed, I just run. Away from Kabe, my prison, the voice. I'll figure out where to go later. Now I just run, run as the sound of gunfire follows me.  
  
***** 


	6. Scents of Darkness

A/N: Welcome readers and reviewers! This is actually the second to the last chapter of this short tale, though it will probably sound like the last. You'll see what I mean in the next chapter, it is part of the story, but it probably isn't what you expect. Or maybe it is! It will end on a happier note.  
  
A/N II: This was written through an insomniac's haze and Tormekinz, my female young cat's demanding attention, so please bare with me. I refuse to take the stupid sleeping pills they gave me. I tried them once and they made me feel like crap. I have a hard enough time dealing with this brain without mucking it up with drugs. And now, my stupid dog has just stolen my cupcake. .  
  
Acknowledgements: Ah, my wonderful readers and reviewers, I thank you! My appreciation of you is beyond measure. My gracious reviewers, you are the air that breathes life into this story. You feed my ever-starving muse. For this I respectfully thank you! DibMagician, I thank you! Yess it isss creepy, isn't ittt?!! Grins evilly. The poor professor certainly doesn't have the life of luxury most of the world thinks he has. He doesn't have much of a life at all it seems. Pirate Monkey, Thank you! I know the update wasn't as quickly as you had hoped. (Bubee is back to hogging the computer for SimCity. Again. He needs a new X-Box game badly.) The final chapter should come sooner. It is already almost finished. twisted toaster, I have to thank you for introducing me to "Swoops" the minty ones are my fav. Mmmmm! So deelishuz! And yes, the professor is far, far too young to die, though I fear he won't be trying 'Swoops" anytime soon. Maran Zelde: Thank you! To be honest, I didn't intend this tale to be as violent as it has become. My tales seem to take on lives of their own and sometimes even I'm not sure of where they are going. I fear my muse is a very independent and mysterious creature, with a tendency to lead my stories down strange pathways. Fortunately, the next and final chapter will be torture free, well, mostly. And will provide a glimmer of hope for our beloved, seemingly doomed Professor Membrane. I like to leave things on positive notes. (key word 'like') ceskirby, thank you! I'm cannot say I am sorry about evil cliffhangers of doom. They tend to force people to come back. I am glad you understand about delayed postings. By the way, I think I owe you a few reviews. I owe quite a few reviews actually. So meny reviews. Although I review quicker than I update, it seems I still fall far behind. You people write so meny great and wonderful tales it is hard to keep up. - I will review more soon. Very soon.  
  
WARNING: This will be the last of the 'heavy' warning need. The next chapter will be considerably milder. As for the warnings: just the usual, 3 acts of violence, some 'off camera' death (more assumed than mentioned) and 1 explosion. Again, I still think it falls into the Rated PG –13 but if I'm wrong. PLEASE LET ME KNOW.  
  
Disclaimer: Me? Own Invader Zim? Yeah! IN MY DREAMS!!!  
  
Chapter Six: Night  
  
As I run, I wait for the bullet impact. If I am lucky, it will hit the sweater. The force of the bullet will probably knock me down, and leave a nasty bruise, or in a worse case scenario, even break a bone, but it will not penetrate the skin. If the bullet hits anywhere else, it will do what bullets do. I try not to think of that.  
  
Near panic, I cross the street, almost to be hit by a passing car. The sound of an angry horn and the screech of tires on pavement only serve to heighten my senses.  
  
"Watch where you're going, moron."  
  
Winded, I stop for a second on the other side of the street and look back towards the parking lot. Ignoring the driver's angry glare, I look for pursuers. Finding none, I allow myself a second to relax. After a moment, the driver takes off. I hear him mumble "Stupid Drunk" as he leaves and can't help but smile. I'm not drunk. I'm alive. I'm alive and free.  
  
Alive and Free! Heh! I barely believe it.  
  
A fierce explosion interrupts my sudden revelation.  
  
The bombs. Kabe must have somehow set them off.  
  
I watch in awe as the very building that housed my prison crumbles and burns in a fiery aftermath.  
  
As I watch, I contemplate what I should do. I have been under someone else's control for so long, following their commands that I am almost at a loss as what to do next. My confusion doesn't last long.  
  
WWITS, my prison, they are no more. The burning building tempts me to believe this and I want to, I really do, but deep down, I cannot believe it. Just because someone destroys the building doesn't mean they destroy the organization. I'm free now, and if I want to remain free, I need to leave fast.  
  
I turn my back from the burning building and glance around, trying to find my bearings and decide which way to go. I notice several skyscrapers to my left and decide to walk in the opposite direction. I figure I'll be safer in the suburbs. Less lights, and they won't expect me to head there. I hope.

I don't know exactly how far I have walked, or how long. When I finally pause for a rest I find myself outside a dark and silent elementary skool. Old pains are reemerging as the drug Kabe gave me starts to wear off. Fortunately, the endorphin high created by my newfound freedom keeps me going strong, as does the prospect of finding my children. I don't know where they are, but I know what they look like and I know their names. I will search every city, town, and state until I find them, and if they are not in this country, I will try the next. If I can somehow gain computer access, this task will be considerably easier.  
  
For a moment, I toy with the idea of breaking into the skool and using one of their computers, but as I glance up at the skool, I notice something in the window is watching me, something that reminds me of my old skool teacher Mrs. Bitters. Shuddering I turn from the skool and quickly walk away, entertaining the idea that it was Mrs. Bitters, or her ghost at least. She must have been at least 100 when she was teaching me. Old and filled with dooming prophesies. I was amazed they let her teach us, as old as she was, and so negative. I never met anyone so obsessed with doom and gloom. I quickly walk from the skool, eager to escape the frightening thoughts of Mrs. Bitters' ghost. She frightened me more than even my captors at WWITS do...did.

The endorphin high is finally starting to subside, bringing me down quickly. I notice a small park and make my way there, planning to rest a moment before continuing my journey. My wounds are screaming at me now and I wish I had some type of painkiller to dull them. In a way, I am thankful for the pain. It means I'm still alive. Finding a bench, I sit down and let out a sigh. I listen to the cars rumbling in the distance and look around. Not far from the bench I notice a piece of paper. In the dim light, it looks like money. Curious, I stand up and retrieve it. It is money, five dollars to be exact and as if on cue, my stomache begins to rumble. I again absently wonder what time it is, how long I've been walking.  
  
I think I am far enough away from the WWITS building that it would be safe to find a place and eat. I hope so anyway. Glancing around I notice a few fast food restrauntes on the other side of the park. Krazy Taco, Bloaties Pizza Hog., and behind that, MacMeaties. MacMeaties has been around a long time, and I remember they use to serve meat milkshakes. Since I am not able to eat solid food that well, I figure a meat milkshake will be sufficient. Reluctantly I head towards the foul restraunte, for although I am not partial to drinking frozen pureed meat byproducts, it will provide the necessary nutrients to keep me going.  
  
I decide to cut through the Bloaties parking lot to MacMeaties. Even before I reach the parking lot I smell the greasy odors of pizza. I pause and close my eyes for a moment, relishing the medley of odors. Pepperoni. Sausage. So meny wonderful smells. I glance towards the window, wishing I could eat solid foods with the old grace I use to.  
  
My hatred for my old captors consumes me for a moment before I remember the explosion that signaled their demise. I am free now. I may bare the scares of my imprisonment, but I am free. Yet there are nagging doubts in my mind. I am still unable to fully believe I am free.  
  
My journey towards MacMeaties brings me close to Bloaties, and I glance at the windows as I walk. For a moment I pause and watch as the mechanical monstrosities try to entertain the customers. It seems they frighten them more that amuse them.  
  
With a sigh, I begin to turn away, resolved to purchasing a meat milkshake and subdue my complaining stomache. But as I turn away from Bloaties' windows, a flash of purple catches my eye. Not just any purple, but the very shade of purple that adorns my beautiful Gaz's head.  
  
I turn back and my heart stops. It is Gaz. And Dib. And that monster they call Dad.  
  
'That imposter.'  
  
For a moment my anger flares and I am forced to quell my desire to rush in and rip him limb from limb. Instead I focus my attention towards my children. No one seems to notice me as I stand and watch them. Dib is busy talking, his hands animatedly flinging through the air, helping to punctuate words I cannot hear. Gaz is concentrating on her Pizza, seemingly ignoring him. That foul imposter is ignoring them both as he talks to someone on a portable vid-phone.  
  
I take a deep breath, forcing my anger to a more manageable level. Again I turn my attention towards my children.  
  
Dib stops talking and looks up at me and I find myself frozen with fear and uncertainty. I am so close to the window I am almost touching it with my nose. I don't even remember walking towards it. I watch transfixed as he turns towards Gaz. I shift my eyes towards her. Wide-eyed she stares at me and I find myself lost in their honey-brown depths. In her eyes I read confusion and disbelief. Or at least that is what I think I see. She glances away and I turn my focus towards Dib again.  
  
He is staring at me with something akin to fear. My heart instantly sinks and I tell him that I am his father, his and Gaz's real father. "I love you both so much" I tell him through the window. I know he doesn't hear me, but I want him to know. I want him to know the truth.  
  
Something stings my leg, drawing my attention from my children. Looking down I see a small dart with a red tip and instantly know what has happened.  
  
They have found me. I have let down my guard and they have found me.  
  
I see movement and look up in time to see the imposter motioning to my children to stay where they are. He looks up at me, his expression unreadable behind the goggles and high collar. Looking at my children again he nods to them and takes his leave, heading towards Bloaties' entrance.  
  
My vision begins to blur as I turn back towards my children, trying to burn their image into my mind forever. I cherish the fact that I have actually seen them in person again. They are so much older than I expected.  
  
As I start to loose motor control I whisper to them that I love them. They stare at me wide-eyed, following me even as I sink below the window. I stare up at them as they press their faces against the glass and I smile.  
  
For a moment I had received my prayer. I was free and with my children. Though part of me cries that I have failed to free them, seeing them, healthy and strong, has given me power to face whatever the future holds. Someday this will be more that just a brief glimpse of freedom. Someday this will be forever. I promise, I will somehow make this happen.  
  
As darkness engulfs me, I tell them again that I am their father and that I love them. I tell their unhearing ears never to submit to WWITS.  
  
- 

-- 

---

  
  
A loud crack fills the air as a sharp pain erupts on my face. I open my eyes as fire continues to dance on the left side of my face. Harsh light penetrates my eyes, making my head ache even more and I squeeze them shut.  
  
In dismay, I realize that I am tied to a torture frame. Strapped in spread- eagle and upright, the frame allows my captors to torture me on any or all sides without fear of me collapsing when I become unconscious. It is an ingeniously simple, horribly evil restraining device. It is with some relief I find I am still clothed in my underclothes. This indicates that my torture will not be as intense as it has been in the past.  
  
Another slap stings my face, this time, thankfully, on the right side.  
  
"Open your eyes!" comes the demand. "We know you're awake."  
  
Reluctantly I slowly open them, allowing them to get use to the light. Blurred vision tells me that my glasses have been removed, though I can clearly see the face that stands only inches from mine. Magnified squirrelly eyes framed with impossibly small eyewear, a crooked smile, and halitosis great me and I involuntarily let out a gasp of fear.  
  
I was wrong. This torture session will be worse.  
  
I know this face. It is of my primary torturer, the man responsible for most of my pain and suffering, the very one who cut my tongue. They don't use him unless my 'discipline' calls for drastic measures. My fear makes itself know in beads of sweat and uncontrollable shaking. His smile grows as he observes this.  
  
"It's been awhile Membrane." He whispers. "I'm glad you remember me."  
  
He pulls back and I glance around, taking in what I can see of the glaring white room. A blurred group of people stand silently behind my torturer. One of them breaks away from the group and makes its way forward and as its facial features come into view, I recognize it to be Simmons.  
  
"You have had yourself quite an adventure Membrane." He says as he paces before me. "We almost lost you to those Freedom For Technology creeps."  
  
FFT. So that's what it means. I file the information away. It is useless to me now, but perhaps it will be useful in the future.  
  
He stops and looks at me. "You do know that the Freedom in Freedom For Technology doesn't stand for your freedom, don't you?"  
  
I shake my head no, knowing full well the consequences if I fail to respond to his inquiry.  
  
He sighs and begins pacing again.  
  
"The organization known as Freedom For Technology is a low-level group of wannabes." Simmons informs me. "They act as intermediaries in prisoner negotiations between criminal corporations, mostly in the technological criminal sections. This time they were working to free the 'godfather' of the technological criminal organization known as 'Obake' from the England criminal section known as 'World of Tomorrow'.  
  
'Obake' Japanese for 'Ghost', my mind automatically informs me, drawing on old memories of my childhood pen pal from Japan who had been into the paranormal. In a way, he had been very much like Dib.  
  
Simmons stops pacing and comes towards me, breaking me from my memories.  
  
"You were going to be trade-bait." He informs me; leaning so close I can smell his rank coffee breath. "We can't have that now, can we?"  
  
I shake my head no, not really knowing where this is going. I find out all to soon as he steps back and the torturer takes his place.  
  
My eyes widen as they are drawn to a searing red metal brander in my torturer's hand. He smiles at me and tilts it close to my face, showing me the glowing WWITS that make up the brander's head.  
  
"We're going to make sure everyone knows you are ours." Simmons informs me from somewhere behind my torturer. If you ever escape, everyone will know you're ours."  
  
No. Please. NO. I shake my head and practically scream my denial as my torturer disappears somewhere behind me.  
  
A searing pain engulfs my left shoulder and this time I do scream. The smell of burning flesh assaults my nostrils, made worse by the knowledge that it is my flesh. The pain renewed as my new wound is exposed to air. My screams decrease to a whimper and above this I hear a strange hissing sound, like the sound made by an aerosol can. Oddly, the pain in my shoulder subsides.  
  
Standing in front of me, Simmons offers an explanation for this sudden decrease in pain. "We have sprayed you with a antiseptic/disinfectant. We don't want you to miss out on your true punishment, now do we?" His predator's smile sends new shivers down my spine.  
  
Simmons steps back as my torturer returns again to stand in front of me, this time holding a rather large, rather sharp knife. Behind him, I hear Simmons.  
  
"You see," he begins. "You are far to valuable for us to loose. We have worked so hard to obtain your great-great-grandfather that we are not about to loose you to inferior competition. You, your children, you are all property of WWITS. This is your destiny. You cannot change that. You were created to serve us and us alone. We control your every action, your every thought. Your very breath belongs to us. Yet, it is clear that you choose to disobey us. You didn't have to go with FFT. You could have told us of their intentions. Yet you, however, chose to run. Such disobedience is very disconcerting and cannot go unpunished. Because of this, you are forcing us to make sure this never happens again."  
  
Simmons pauses for a moment, and again my torturer disappears from my sight. The silence is almost unbearable.  
  
Simmons indicated to the people behind him. "We argued long and hard concerning your punishment. Some believe we should harvest your children early. With them by your side, you would be less inclined to run. Still others feel we should punish your children for your actions. We know how much you love them and would never wish harm against them."  
  
He pauses to let this sink in.  
  
Horror rushes through my veins. Fear deeper than I have ever felt before. My children. They want to hurt my children.  
  
Simmons laughs as I struggle uselessly in the torture frame, screaming empty threats against him and his family, against all of them and their families. Behind me, my torturer is laughing as well.  
  
I glare past Simmons at the blurry people behind him Expecting, almost daring them to laugh as well. They remain frighteningly silent through all of this and I begin wonder if they really are people, or some sick façade Simmons created to intimidate me. Yet I can see them move. I know they are real. I know they are there.  
  
Simmons waits until I exhaust myself. I fall silent. My voice spent.  
  
"That was quite a show you put on." He smirks. "But no, we aren't going to involve your children. Harming them would be counterproductive. And we will leave them to learn by 'standard' methods. They will be harvested soon enough. As of now, they are more valuable where they are. And safer as well. No one outside of this room even knows they exist. So you don't need to worry that precious head about that. We have decided to hobble you instead."  
  
I gasp as I feel something cut deep into my right ankle, slicing my tendo achillis. With this simple act of mutilation, this simple violation, they win. I will never be able to run again. The simple act of walking will be a challenge. And I know there will be no hope of a walking aid such as a cane. They would never give me something that I could use against them. This was indeed the ultimate torture, the ultimate punishment.  
  
I hang my head in defeat. I have failed my children. There is nothing I can do to prevent this fate. I want to die.  
  
Simmons lifts my head, forcing me to look at him.  
  
"By the way Professor," He smiles at me, as if reading my thoughts, "If you die, one of your children will die with you. After all, we only need one. So don't even think about it. And if you disobey us, well, we could always change our mind about harvesting your children. Your little girl is quite a gem, isn't she?"  
  
I hear his threats and know he means them.  
  
"What will you do, Professor Membrane?" Simmons leans very close to me. "Tell me what you will do."  
  
"I wiw obey." I whisper, blinking at him through tears of pain, shame and defeat.  
  
I watch as Simmons moves aside so my torturer can stick a needle in my arm.  
  
As my conscious surrenders to darkness I make one last silent vow. I will obey, but I will do it on my terms.  
  
I will destroy the monster from the inside. 


	7. Senses redefined!

A/N: Welcome readers and reviewers! This is it, the first official finished multi-chapter tale done by me for ffn! YAY! Can't believe I actually finished one, well, besides the one shot. And I have all of you to thank. "THANK YOU!" Seemed to take forever didn't it? Blame it on a horrendous case of writer's block. I had a plan in mind, but when I put it to paper, it's plausibility plummeted. To meny discrepancies and implausible probabilities. So I scrapped the idea and tried to think of something more acceptable, something more believable. It seemed hopeless. So in a bout of frustration I wrote 'Teach'. (_Thanks for all of the reviews. Honestly, I wasn't really expecting any for it. I wasn't sure about it, (Ms. Bitters is rather an odd character) but the response has been positive. Thank you all! Glad you enjoyed it_.) After that, I retired for the day, depressed and no closer to an ending. Oddly, after sitting in the dark for an hour munching on pickled haring with onions, (yes I actually eat the stuff, it's the only thing I can put in the fridge and know no one will touch), I had a bout of inspiration. I've been typing like a lunatic ever since. Okay, almost ever since. Anyway, It breaks away from the original format. I hope you like it. If you don't, please tell me why.  
  
Acknowledgements: My readers and reviewers, I thank you! You all have inspired me to finish my first long tale. I hope it is all you have expected and a little more. As always, special thanks go to my reviewers. It is your reviews that fuel my creativity and cause me to strive for perfection. I Graciously Thank You All! DibMagician, Thank you! You have blessed me more than you know with your praise. I hope someday that I can indeed write a novel. And yes, it is quite horrible, what happened to Membrane, but his world is about to change, for the better. Thank you Maran Zelde! I am pleased that you have enjoyed this tale so. I had originally planned for Membrane to assist more in his freedom, but the original ending wasn't plausible even for the IZ universe. This I was forced to rewrite it. I hope you this ending enjoyable, despite Membrane's downplay. Dark Destiny, Thank you! I am glad you have enjoyed this tale so, but I fear it must end. I can only hope that this ending is sufficient. Senri, Thank you! As I have stated so many times above, I do hope you find this an acceptable ending. I wanted it to be something different and hope it has not interfered with the flow of the tale. Pirate Monkey, Thank you, but Please don't stress! While it is true that he can't run, Membrane actually can walk, just with difficulties. He will always walk with a limp, and a walking stick or cane would be of great assistance, though I doubt he'd be able to get one until he's free from WWITS. redfox and megane-chan, Thank you redfox,! As requested, I present to you the final chapter. I hope you find it enjoyable.  
  
WARNING: A lighter warning this time. Just some mild violence, mostly Gaz invoked. I must say that this tale seemed to be more violent than I had expected.  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own it. J.V. created it. Nick is wasting it. They are sitting on a masterpiece and don't even know it. Maybe with the success of the videos they'll finally see. Sadly, even if it was revised, it would never be the same. --  
  
==========  
  
Chapter Seven:  
  
Excerpt from Gaz's poem/diary.

(Yeah, She's an intellectual, so why not?!)  
  
===  
  
_August 20th  
  
Hey mom.  
  
No poems tonight. I need to write this. I need to get my thoughts clear. I would have written it last night, but couldn't bring myself to do it. My head was spinning with too much information and I needed some down time. Plus I wanted to research a few things.  
  
Last night something happened something I never thought possible, something that changed my perceptions on life. Dad, Dib and I were at Bloaties Pizza Hog for Dad's infamous 'Family Nite Out', his poor attempt at parenting, when we saw someone I thought I'd never see again. I saw dad, not the Dad who has been 'taking care of' Dib and I, but the dad I remember from when I was a kid. The one who use to give us hugs and kiss our scrapes and bruises, the one who loved us. The one they told us was dead right before they introduced us to this Dad. (It's sounds more confusing than it really is.)  
  
"This is your real father, kids. Your other dad left. He doesn't love you like this Dad does. He is dead." Odd thing to say to two year olds.  
  
Yeah, I still remember. With this stupid photographic memory, how could I not? I almost remember being born. I remember the blood. I remember seeing you. I remember your screams. I remember everything. Dib's lucky he forgets things. He doesn't remember you. Stupid Dib. I wish I could forget. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with all these stupid memories, all this stupid data, that even drowning myself in the virtual worlds of the Gameslave doesn't help.  
  
Anyway, it was hard to tell it was him at first because he was in pretty rough shape. One side of his face was cut and swollen pretty badly, his hair was un-kept and his glasses were messed up. He wore a white lab coat sort of like Dad's except without the high collar. It was drenched with what looked like drying blood. But if you looked passed all of the cuts and bruises, he bore an uncanny resemblance to our Dad, the one we have now, only, well, hardened or something. The only reason I even know he is the dad I remember is because of his smile. I remember his soft eyes. I remember his lips. I remember the way his eyes shined as he use to say "I love you" to Dib and I. He said that to us last night as he watched us through the grease stained windows at Bloaties. I couldn't hear him, but I could read his lips, it was kind of hard, since it looked like he didn't have a tongue, but the lips he spoke through were the lips from my childhood memories. I had seen those lips swollen and bleeding enough back then to know they were the same ones. Through the swollen eye and the broken lens, his eyes sparkled at us the same way I remember they use to.  
  
At first, I harbored my doubts. Dad said that the man was obviously a quack, some obsessed Professor Membrane fan, a sort of Professor Membrane Wannabe. That really freaked Dib out, and I heard him mumbled something about Zim. But I wasn't so sure. When I saw the WWITS embodied on the vests of the 'fake' insanity police that subdued him, and then watched as they loaded his lifeless form into the WWITS van as my Dad and Simmons, one of Dad's employees watched, I really began to wonder.  
  
Remember when I wrote that Dad has been giving me new games with subliminal messages in them? The messages that said things like "Obey your father." "Obey your masters at World Wide International Technology Services." and "You will study Science, Technology, and Math." Well, I have been rewriting the game disks before I play them, extracting the messages. So far, Dad doesn't suspect a thing. I wonder what he would do if he knew I knew?  
  
I didn't tell you before, but when I first noticed the messages, I stopped playing the games he gave me for almost two weeks. He actually cut off my gaming allowance when he realized I wasn't playing them. I made up the excuse that I was practicing for a tournament and I think he bought it, but he said after the tournament I had to play the games he gave me.  
  
"Now Gaz, you don't need any more games until you play the ones you have. They are good games. The creators at Gameslave depend on you for your input. You wouldn't want the creators at Gameslave to be disappointed with you now would you?!"  
  
Pphhlll!  
  
Dad says he has these games especially made for me by his friends at Gameslave and that they are prototypes for upcoming games. He says that since I play the games so often, and because I'm his daughter, the creative department has given me game prototypes to test out. I have to play them, or Dad will get suspicious. I'm supposed to complete each game and then rate it on a 1-10 scale, with one being the most stupid. Dib doesn't have to do anything like this, but then Dad's always riding on Dib to get into 'real' science. At least he doesn't bother me like that.  
  
Shortly after I discovered the subliminal messages, I did some research on the web concerning World Wide International Technology Services. They are a company that creates and develops new products for worldwide distribution. They also sponsor my dad's TV show. You know the one, 'Probing the Membrane of Science'. They looked pretty clean at first, but when I decided to look into old newspaper and magazine articles written about them, things started to get a bit shady.  
  
Most of the articles were positive, praises concerning new technology and such, but there were a few negative ones. On further research, the negative articles were changed to positive ones, followed by long apologies from the writer concerning misinformation and stuff. Oddly, the writers who wrote the negative articles only posted two, the negative one, then the apologetic, positive one. I looked up several of the writers to see if they wrote anything more, and found that they had either died or were fired from the company, their careers ruined. I tried to find out about the legal activities of WWITS, but ran into to many firewalls. I think something pretty illegal is going on with World Wide International Technology Services.  
  
Why would they be so interested in a beat up 'Professor Membrane Wannabe', especially one that looks like my dead childhood dad?  
  
And why would my Dad give me a game with the subliminal message "Obey your masters at World Wide International Technology Services."?  
  
I need to do more research. I think it's time to break into Dad's lab's 'Super Computer' again._

==========  
  
Chapter Seven: Time unknown  
  
I lay on my back and stare through nearly blind eyes at the ceiling. My original night-shift guard has left, only to be replaced by another, a short, stocky fellow who silently sits in the corner and watches me. I am exhausted beyond the point of sleep and the bright lights do nothing to assist me. As all nights like this, this night seems to be going on forever.  
  
I don't know how long it has been since my adventure on the outside. They have taken great measures to make sure I have no sense of time. No one I come into contact with has a wrist watch, there are no clocks on the walls or computers, they feed me and allow me to perform my personal duties at irregular times and they work me until I nearly drop from exhaustion, sometimes to the point of where they have to drag me back to my 'home.'  
  
As usual, my thoughts turn towards my children. In my down time, when I'm not thinking of work or my escape plans, they seem to dominate my mind. Because my children show no 'side affects' of their close encounter with me, my captors still allow me to see my children. I've been allowed to see them twice since the whole 'incident', as my captors like to call it. But seeing them through the vid-camera on my hated 'double's' goggles hurts me like never before. It is a reminder of what almost was. And although tears flowed down my face and my chest felt like someone was sitting on it both times I have been allowed to watch them, I would never wish to pass up that chance. Seeing them allows me to concentrate on my plan, to focus on what is to come.  
  
I've been sabotaging the less than honourable projects they've been forcing me to create recently, the one's I know they will use for evil. It is nothing noticeable at first glance, but rather small, yet significant additions or subtractions to their technology, which will eventually come together and either render the projects worthless or turn against the user. Something that will destroy the organization from the inside, weakening their security and defense systems. Undoubtedly this will lead to my demise, but I am hoping that by then, the organization will have crumbled to the point where they will be rendered harmless to my children. I suppose this is a delusional fantasy, eventually they will figure out what I am doing, but barring a miracle, it is the only option I can think of.  
  
Tomorrow another piece of my plan will be presented to my captors. This piece will undoubtedly cause chaos to their building security defenses. Although it will do nothing to set me free, it is designed with hidden loopholes that allow outsiders easier access into the building. If the right intelligence comes along, they can disarm the lockdown mechanism, allowing easier access to restricted areas. Perhaps another group like FFT will try to rescue me. With luck, I will escape them as they try to free me. If I get out again, I will not let down my guard. I will find freedom, or death trying.  
  
An opening door breaks me from my thoughts and I watch as a two blurred figures brush past my now standing guard.  
  
"You've been awake to long, Membrane."  
  
I recognize Simmons' voice. He has been haunting me quite a bit since my attempted escape.  
  
The guard with him grabs my arm and pushes up my sleeve. I see the flash of a needle and instantly know what is happening. They've been doing this a lot lately.  
  
Behind him, Simmons offers this night's justification. "You need your sleep. This is an important assignment and a lot of important people will be present for the unveiling. We can't have you sleeping during the presentation now can we."  
  
The poison spreads like fire thought my veins and I watch Simmons and the guard spin as I fade into the darkness.  
  
I hate induced sleep.  
  
==========  
  
Excerpt from Gaz's poem/diary.  
  
===  
  
_September 3rd  
  
Hey mom,  
  
I have been doing more research on WWITS, trying to find the connection to why the subliminal messages are trying to get us to "Obey your masters at World Wide International Technology Services." At first I tried to do this through Dad's 'Super Computer' located in the lab. I set the lab security cameras so all I have to do is flip a switch and they would be fed a continual loop. Then I set a security warning so I would know when Dad was coming. He's been coming home a lot lately, and at all odd hours of the day. I know that if Dad found out I was doing this, I would be in deep deep trouble.  
  
I was finally able to break into one of there computers. I have hid my tracks pretty well; they don't even know I've been there. It wasn't easy, I had to break through a bunch of security codes, but it was worth it. I discovered a few things that kind of scare me, but before I could find out more, I ran into a security block that even Dad's computer couldn't breach.  
  
It was then that I decided to recruit Dib's stupid alien friend, Zim. He may be an idiot, but his toys are more advanced than anything Dad has. Plus I don't trust Dad's stuff. After finding out about the games for my Gameslave, I started checking more things out. Dad's been using subliminal messages on all of the stuff around here, even those stupid floating recorded messages he uses to remind Dib and I that he is a 'caring' father.  
  
"Pleh! Real 'caring', Dad." He's about as caring as a wall.  
  
Zim fought me at first, but I 'convinced' him that it is for his own good. I told him that I would relinquish control of his house computer once I was done. I also promised I wouldn't doom him if he cooperated. He's almost as fun to torment as Dib.  
  
Speaking of Dib, he's been more annoying than usual lately. I think he thinks I'm stealing his only friend.  
  
"Zim's brainwashed you. He's evil. Why are you hanging around with him?"  
  
Geez Dib, lighten up.  
  
It's funny, but I think Zim's computer likes me more than it likes him. It whines and snivels when Zim asks it to do something. It obeys him, but acts like it doesn't want to. I don't blame it. Stupid alien. Zim hates the fact that the computer obeys me without complaint. Nothing new. Zim hates that fact that I'm there anyway. He tried to boost his base defenses, but the computer recognized me and let me through. Poor Dib though, I almost felt bad when I saw the lawn gnomes fry him. Okay, I laughed. But I probably would have felt bad if it wasn't so funny. You should have seen the look on his face right before they got him. They singed him pretty bad, but there are no lasting effects. He's come home with worse injuries. Dib is resilient if nothing else.  
  
Zim's computer's capabilities are impressive. We were able to breach the security only minutes after Zim's computer connected to the WWITS master database. Within seconds, we had access to every computer connected to the WWITS network.  
  
The things we found would have shut down the company and locked up the people working there in a heartbeat. WWITS is organized crime at it's best, or worse depending on how you view it. Fraud, imbursement, blackmail, it is amazing no one knows what they are doing there. I wasn't surprised when we discovered they were paying off the police.  
  
We ran into a section that even Zim's computer had trouble accessing. When it finally did, I was shocked to say the least. There were thousands of files, pics and videos, and every single one was about Dib, Dad or me. They were keeping tabs on us. But why?  
  
Curious, I opened one of the files with my name on it. As I suspected, it was about me. Every test I'd taken, every game I've played, every book I've read, even every picture I'd drawn, including the ones I crinkled up and threw into the trash. There were short videos and pictures that looked like they were taken from either Dad's goggles or one of his stupid floating monitors. They were accompanied by monologues attempting to evaluate my reactions to questions and stuff.  
  
Next I checked out Dib's files, pics, and videos. They were pretty much the same. Zim let out a laugh when they said Dib was delusional in thinking that Zim was an alien. The terms crazy or insane were never very far away when they mentioned Dib.  
  
The files and stuff on Dad were more extensive. We opened the pics first. That was when things started getting really weird. The very first one was a photo of Dad, but on closer review I realized it wasn't Dad at all, it was the man Dib, Dad and I saw at Bloaties. The resemblance to Dad was uncanny, the man looked exactly like him, right down to the scathed hair, the only difference was his lab coat didn't have one of those high collars Dad seems to love so much. The fact that he shared my father's name was even more unnerving.  
  
"Hey, that isn't your dad?"  
  
Heh! Dumb alien.  
  
Leave it to Zim to state the obvious.  
  
When we started to read the files and watch the videos we realized something even stranger, something downright frightening. The files talked about imprisonment, about things my Dad invented, about this stranger's reactions as he watched videos of Dib and I, and about torture. The farther back I went into the files, the more I learned about his connection to Dib and I.  
  
As I suspected, we are this stranger's children. It makes sense; he was the man I remember from childhood. I thought he was dead, but instead, he has been held prisoner for an evil twisted corporation for all these years. Life doesn't get any weirder than this. I've half a mind to tell Dib, but with his mouth, he'd probably tell Dad. If that happens, the WWITS people will know, so I don't want Dad to know what I found out. At least not until Zim and I rescue our real father. Zim doesn't know it yet, but he will help me. He doesn't have much of a choice.  
_  
=========  
  
Time unknown  
  
After my last presentation they promised they'd allow me to see my children again. Today they are finally keeping that promise. Shortly after my 'morning' consumption of nutrients, I was led to the small viewing room where I now sit in silent anticipation.  
  
My first glimpse is of my daughter, dressed in her usual manner, complete with Gameslave in hand. Unwillingly, tears spring to my eyes. I was so close to her that day, to her and my son. So close to having my dreams come true and I threw it away, not watching out for THEM. My chest takes on its familiar tightening as I relive those final moments and I breathe a shuttered breath. I failed my children and myself that night. I let my guard down far to soon. If only I would have...I...I should have never let my guard down. I am so stupid.  
  
"I'm going out." Gaz states in a 'matter of fact' manner, breaking me from my grief. She watches my double through squinted eyes as she waits for his approval.  
  
"Where?" I hear my hated double inquire.  
  
"Zim's house."  
  
I can't help but smile a bit at this. It seems Gaz has a boyfriend, the alien Dib is so obsessed with. My little girl is growing up. My smile fades a little as parental concern kicks in. I wish I could talk with this Zim, find out more about him, where he comes from, how old he is, what his intentions with my daughter are, my Young daughter.  
  
"We're playing video games." Gaz continues. She looks off to the side, towards the sound of something thumping.  
  
My double looks to the side as well and I watch as Dib runs down the stairs, tripping on the third step from the bottom in his rush. He hits the ground and I hear a snicker.  
  
My double looks back towards Gaz and I see a smirk on her face. No doubt that's where the snicker came from.  
  
"Okay then, have fun." My hated double says. "Don't stay out to late. And wear a coat."  
  
"WAIT! DAD!" Dib yells, coming into view seconds after his sister leaves. "You can't just let her go over to Zim's again. He's an alien. An Evil One. He's Brainwashed her. Can't you see? Who knows what they're doing over there. It's something evil, I know it is!"  
  
It is apparent that she is spending a great deal of time with this Zim, much to Dib's dismay. I smile at Dib's overprotective stance. It is comforting to know that he loves his sister so much. He is playing the overly concerned brother. It almost makes up for my double's 'indifference'. Although I can't say for sure, I'm almost certain he hasn't checked to see if this Zim is even right for my little girl. I don't want her to get hurt. Undoubtedly, that's what They are hoping for. Emotional distress may make Gaz easier to control. But Gaz is far from helpless. If someone has been able to slip through her defenses, if they have earned her trust, then I fear for them if they break that trust. It seems that my Gaz is not one to take something like that lightly.  
  
My double shakes his head at Dib, mumbling "My poor insane son." Before turning away and walking through the door.  
  
They stop the transmission there, signifying the end of my seconds of paradise. With little fanfare I am let back to the labs where my work awaits me.  
  
==========  
  
Excerpt from Gaz's poem/diary.  
  
===  
  
_November 15th  
  
Hey Mom,  
  
Life keeps getting weirder and weirder. Last month we were in Zim's lab doing research, when Zim received a transmission from his leaders, the Almighty Tallest. I faded into the background so he wouldn't have to explain why he had an enemy in his base, but from where I stood, I could see and hear the whole thing. Here's how it went:  
  
The leaders were kind of...well...weird. They were also ruder than anything. They said they had a running bet concerning something only Zim could answer. Then the purple-eyed one told Zim that he couldn't return to Irk. That he was banished from the Empire. Both of them watched carefully as Zim stood there processing the information, a triumphant grin on the purple- eyed leader's face. In all of his thickheaded stupidity, it seemed Zim didn't understand what they were saying. I watched the grin on the purple- eyed one's face fade to a frown when Zim replied with "HUH?"  
  
The red-eyed leader grinned and hit the purple-eyed one on the arm before leaning towards the camera.  
  
"What we're trying to say ZIM is; DON'T Come Back! STAY On Earth! We Don't Want To See Or Hear From You Again! It's been fun, BUT I WANT MY DONUTS!"  
  
Zim repeated his "HUH?" Before it finally sank in.  
  
"But, but what about my secret mission? What about Earth?"  
  
I heard the waver in his voice and actually felt a pang of sympathy for the dumb alien. He was so dense he didn't even know that his leaders were ditching him, and all because of some lousy bet over some stupid donuts.  
  
The purple-eyed one let out an exasperated sigh.  
  
"Thanks a lot ZIM. You just lost me a week's worth of donuts." He looked at the red-eyed leader before continuing. "Now Pay ATTENTION!"  
  
"Stay on Earth. There is NO invasion. We set our weapons to recognize your Voot Cruiser's signature as a danger. If you try to come back to Irk or the Armada, they will target your voot and you will explode." He paused for a moment before a sickening smirk stained his face, "Better yet, DO come back. I Want to see you EXPLODE INTO A THOUSAND ITY BITS!!!"  
  
He glanced at his companion, who's eyes grew wide with understanding.  
  
"Yeah, Zim." The red-eyed monster agreed, "Come back. I WANNA SEE YOU EXPLODE!"  
  
They both started laughing hysterically before the transmission cut out.  
  
"But...but..." Those were the last words Zim said before collapsing.  
  
He didn't faint like I first thought, but rather he sat there. Silent. I'm not good at these situations. Usually I find them amusing, but something about that whole transmission thing bothered me. I guess I never witnessed seeing ones world fall around them in one foul sweep. Usually worlds crumble a piece at a time. Like Dib's or mine. So slow you don't know you've lost it until it's to late.  
  
I walked up and stood beside him for a moment before deciding he needed a new purpose in life.  
  
"Get up, Zim." I told him, half expecting him to explode into some unfathomable fury. "I'll help you get revenge on your leaders for dumping you if you help me free my real dad from World Wide International Technology Services."  
  
The fury came seconds after I said that. He lunged at me, missing me by mere millimetres. I sidestepped and tripped him. He pulled his creepy spider legs from his pak, trying to break his fall, but I managed to trip those too. He landed face first on the ground  
  
"It has to hurt," I continued, "being rejected like that. You must be feeling pretty bad."  
  
I watched as he climbed to his feet. His mouth was held in a grimace and something wet was trickling from a gash in his forehead and down his cheek. I'd never seen Irken blood before. It is darker, thicker than ours. He wasted no time before springing at me again, this time using his spider legs for leverage and force. I sidestepped again and watched him smash into some computer monitors.  
  
"If I were you, I'd want to doom them good." I muttered as he pushed back from the monitors. I noticed the ones he ran into were broken. More Irken blood stained their shattered screens. "You know I can help you do that." With this, I finally got him to talk. From my experiences with Dib, he always felt better after a good bout of talking. I've learned that Zim's really not much different in that respect.  
  
"STUPID HUMAN!" he screeched at me with undiluted fury. "ZIM DOES NOT NEED YOUR HELP. ZIM DOES NOT NEED YOUR PITY! YOU KNOW NOTHING OF MY PAIN!"  
  
"I didn't say I know your pain. I merely said it has to hurt, being rejected like that. I'd be feeling pretty bad if it happened to me." Again I danced out of his way, this time getting cut in the arm by a passing spider leg. "And I don't pity you! I know that I would want revenge if someone rejected me like that and I figured you'd want that too. You help me, I help you!"  
  
He stopped himself before he slammed into the wall. He spun around and drew his spider legs into his Pak. He was breathing hard through his mouth and his eyes were narrow with hate. Hate and sorrow.  
  
"They are the Almighty Tallest. Leaders of the Irken Empire. My leaders!" He advanced towards me with a calculated anger. "I cannot even begin to think of revenge. That is Blasphemy against the very structure of the Empire. To do so is cause for instant execution. If I even so much as think of it, my Pak will disconnect, destroying me."  
  
I allowed him to back me into a corner and leaned my back against a wall, letting him think he had the upper hand. His proximity could easily work to my advantage if he decided to become violent.  
  
"What if I fix that?" I propositioned, glaring at him. "I can, you know."  
  
He drew forward, stopping less than twenty centimetres from me, and looked at me through narrowed eyes. His hands gripped my shoulders, digging in slightly and pushing me against the wall, trying to block my escape. I let him, waiting for his response. "How?" he whispered nearly inaudibly. It was like he was talking about a deadly secret. In a way, I guess he was.  
  
"I can reconfigure your pak." I half growled half whispered back, watching him through skeptical eyes. "I reconfigured Tak's ship, I reprogrammed this computer to accept my commands, despite your best defensive programs, and I know I can reconfigure your pak so you can be free of your Irken masters. Free to plot revenge against those who used you to win a stupid bet."  
  
He was silent for a long time, standing there, and I was beginning to wonder if I made a big mistake, one that might force me to hurt Zim and cost me valuable resources for rescuing Dib's and my real dad.  
  
"OK." He finally said, pushing back. "If you fail. Dib dies, your real father dies, your other father dies and You Die!"  
  
I smirked at him. "Fair enough. If I succeed, you help me free my real father and destroy WWITS."  
  
"Fine!" he hissed in agreement.  
  
Since then, I've been doing research on the pak and yesterday I finally did it.  
  
As promised, before I started he made me tell the computer that if something went wrong and he died, it was to kill me to, even if I begged it not to, then it was to program Gir to kill Dib and our dads. When I was finished, Zim's pak was severed from the Irken Empire. It is now functioning independently. I guess all those years of playing with computers and Dad's toys in the basement have really paid off. I haven't had that much fun since I programmed the security at Dad's studio to allow me full access into the building and reject Dib. Heh! Dib still hasn't realized there is no Staff entrance.  
  
When it came time to test it, I could tell Zim was nervous. It looked like he was preparing himself for death, but the prospect of freedom from the Irken Empire, the prospect of revenge, must have been greater than his fear of death. It was almost five minutes before he finally took a deep breath and in a small voice, spoke his first blasphemy against his Irken leaders.  
  
I wish you could have seen the odd look of joy on Zim's face when he realized it worked, that he was really free. It was...interesting. His eyes widened with wonder, sparkling like gems. He smiled so wide, I thought his face would split. His black antennae quivered so fierce they sounded like hummingbird wings and were merely a blur to look at. It was weird.  
  
He spoke his blasphemous statement again, then again, then again. Louder each time until he was screaming. He raised his fists in defiance and narrowed his eyes. "YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU MESSED WITH ZIM, MY TALLEST! YOU WILL RUE THAT DAY!"  
  
I waited until he regained some composure before confronting him. "You will keep your promise." I reminded him in a stern voice.  
  
He looked at me and grinned. "Yes. Yes, I will."  
_  
==========  
  
Time unknown  
  
"Wake up!" Someone screams into my ear.  
  
I jump; waking once more from an induced slumber. This time however, I'm not in my bed, but rather I'm strapped into a chair. Fear rushes through me as I take stock of my situation. My goggles are on and I am facing a group of my captors. Not surprisingly, Simmons is among them. Lately, he's almost everywhere I am. I see movement and glance to my left. A guard is standing there, the same one from last night when they gave me the shot. This can't be good. This is not normal and 'not normal' is never good.  
  
They found me out.  
  
I'm going to die.  
  
Simmons breaks from the group and walks towards me.  
  
I offer a weak smile, trying to hide my fear.  
  
Simmons stands silently for a moment, watching me, his face is unreadable behind the high collar and goggles. "We are having difficulty with the WWITS SP Mini Lasers."  
  
He pulled out a small pen sized object. I stopped smiling and instead try to cover my fear with a look of concerned.  
  
That was the first project they forced me to create after my recent recapture, the first thing I sabotaged. The tiny laser was supposed to emit a one millimetre thick concentrated beam of energy powerful enough to slice through thirty-one centimetres of solid steel. When I presented it to them it did just that.  
  
Simmons moves to stand directly in front of me. He fiddles with the laser as he talks.  
  
"The lasers seem to work fine for a while, but then..." Simmons pauses for a moment as he points the laser at me and pushes the button.  
  
My eyes widen with fear as I try pull back, trying to loose myself in the confines of the wooden chair I'm strapped to, trying to prepare myself for death. I wait helplessly for the beam to punch a hole through me,. Instead I feel mild discomfort as my nightshirt heats up against my chest. The laser is wide, almost seven centimetres in diametre and its power is no stronger than a good hair drier.  
  
Simmons continues. "As our people began to use the lasers on a regular bases, the lasers casing started to fall apart, that the beam's width started expanding, and the beam's strength started diminishing."  
  
Heh! It worked. Imagine that?  
  
"You are going to fix it." Simmons shuts the laser off and leans in close to me. "You will fix it and make it work just like we told you to the first time. If it doesn't work correctly, your children..." He trailed off, leaving the threat unfinished.  
  
Simmons leans back and continues, "You are also going to fix any other problems we run across."  
  
Simmons pauses for a moment, watching me closely. They know I'm doing something, but they're not sure what it is. They haven't connected the 'problems' with creations intended for misuse yet. All they know is that some products are malfunctioning and some are not.  
  
"And if any more 'problems' occur from here on out, we will make you wish you were dead." Simmons leans towards me again, his voice issuing a poisonous threat "I personally, will make you wish that both you and your children had never been born."  
  
For a moment feelings of depression and despair overwhelm me, threatening to drown out coherent thought. Great. Just great. Drawing in a shuddered breath and fighting back tears, I consciously make an effort to compose myself.  
  
Seeing this, Simmons again pulls back. "Glad we have an understanding."  
  
Turning towards my guard, he waves his hand in dismissal. "Take him to section "B". Don't bother feeding or dressing him, he has a lot of work to do."  
  
==========  
  
Excerpt from Gaz's poem/diary.  
  
===  
  
_December 10th  
  
Hey Mom,  
  
With our research on World Wide International Technology Services finally complete, we started planning the rescue. That was two days ago. Zim put up a big stink at first, saying I couldn't order him around and I was to inferior to handle his advanced technology, but I twisted his words and made him think it was a challenge.  
  
"The mighty Zim is afraid to pull off a simple rescue of a lowly human, huh? Afraid he'll get caught. I bet you would get caught too. Your to stupid not to. Even that insane robot of yours is braver and smarter than you."  
  
I think it was the last words that got to him. You should have seen him standing there fuming. I couldn't help but laugh. That only made him angrier. He tried to attack me, but I don't play the stupid games that he and Dib do. He pulled some sort of laser on me but I knocked it out of his hand before he could fire it. You should have seen him pale as I caught him by his stupid collar and slammed him against the wall. I swear he was almost white. He was shivering so bad I thought I'd loose my grip. His antennae were pressed flat against his skull and he was staring at me in fear. I don't think he was ever this afraid of Dib. I leaned in close to his face and asked again if he thought he could handle it. As predicted, he reluctantly agreed.  
  
"But I'm not doing it because you scare me." He practically screeched at me in that annoying voice of his. "I'm doing this to prove how superior and unafraid of you I am...and because I promised." The last part was tact on as an afterthought.  
  
I had to stifle a laugh.  
  
"Then do it!"  
  
Hey, whatever works!  
  
That was our last 'fight' if you could call it that. For being a mighty Irken Invader, Zim's kind of a wimp, at least when it comes to me. I've watched him beat the crap out of Dib, but he backs down at the mere implication of doom from my part. He's a lot smarter than I first gave him credit for.  
  
Everything else went pretty smoothe, with the exception of Dib driving me to the brink of near insanity whenever I came home. If he knows he's going to be doomed for bugging me like that, why doesn't he stop? He's too stubborn for his own good. I already told him that I'm going over to Zim's because I want to. He thinks Zim has brainwashed me and that 'something' is going on.  
  
"You're his slave or something. I know it. He brainwashed you. You have to let me help."  
  
Spraying me with water earned him a black eye. He got a bloody nose when he tried to lock me in my room. He sprained his wrist when he tried to tie me up so I wouldn't go to Zim's. I stomped on his toe when he ATE THE LAST PIECE OF PIZZA. THE ONE I CLAIMED FOR ME!!! Okay, the last part was not Zim related, but Dib really, REALLY annoys me when he does that. And he does that a lot.  
  
Finding out where WWITS was keeping this new, (old) dad was kind of tricky. We had to search the files pretty hard to find even the slightest clue as to his whereabouts. We discovered that he must still be in town somewhere, but we didn't know which building. Zim created some small probes to check out the buildings owned by World Wide International Technology Services. After that, it didn't take very long to discover which building he was in. Some brick building downtown, in a right next to the city park.  
  
I let Zim draw out the escape plans. It was easer than fighting him and his bloated ego. He is less annoying when he thinks he is in charge. Besides, he knows what his equipment can do. I could figure it out easily enough, but I didn't want to waste precious time arguing with Zim.  
  
I have to admit, his rescue idea was pretty impressive. Better than any world domination plan he ever came up with. He was able to find and exploit a major weakness in their building's defense system. It was almost laughable once we noticed it. The only part of Zim's plan I didn't like was the idea of having to replace Dad with the prisoner. I felt kind of bad about the whole imprisonment/torture thing. I didn't want to put Dad in that position. No one should be treated like that. After he showed me the plan, Zim argued with me about how perfect it was. By that time, his dumb robot was driving me near insane. The stupid thing had been running around the lab for the better part of an hour squealing obnoxious things about taquitos and tacos and how 'starveded' he was. I told Zim to take that annoying robot of his for some tacos. Zim was more than happy to agree when he realized I was reaching my tolerance level. I just wish I didn't have to destroy my Gameslave III like that. Now I'm down to only two. He made me promise that I'd stay out of the lab until he returned. It was kind of odd that Zim trusted me like that, for just my word, but he's been doing that more lately, ever since I reconfigured that pak of his. I settled down on his couch and drowned myself in my reserved Gameslave while I worked out a plan on how not use to Dad and waited for them to return. They were gone for almost an hour.  
  
By the time Zim and his hyper robot finally returned, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I asked Zim if he could create a robot to replace the prisoner, sort of like he did with Dib that one time. It had to be something that could be used to destroy WWITS after we escaped. At the mere mention of destruction, Zim's eyes took on a mischievous glimmer and he disappeared into his lab for the rest of the day. I went home, hoping to get some good drawing in, but ended up having to doom Dib for spraying me with some stupid 'anti-hypnosis' spray he had ordered from Crop Circle Magazine, then spent the rest of the evening washing that crap from my hair and clothes.  
_  
=========  
  
Time unknown  
  
Same thing, different night!  
  
I struggle to keep my eyes open in a battle I know I'll lose. It is my own defiant stance against their control.  
  
Since our little meeting, Simmons' interest in me has been taken to a new level. With the exception of night, Simmons is constantly by my side, watching my every move. My guards have increased as well. Now, I constantly escorted by two, again with the exception of night.  
  
They figure I don't need heavy security at night, not since they've started to drug my evening meals. It is the new nightly routine. They force me to drink the rot they call dinner, tainted even more so by the sleeping drug, then force me to work until I can barely keep my eyes open. The drug usually works fast, but they never take me 'home' until I loose my equilibrium. Then they unceremoniously drag me 'home' strip me of my clothes, my goggles, and what little dignity I have had managed to reacquire that day, redress me in my nightwear, have a brief changing of the guard and leave. At least I don't have trouble sleeping anymore. Already I find myself slipping away and they've only just left.  
  
I rolled on my side and stare at the blurry figure of my guard, trying to occupy my mind and keep from falling asleep. From where I lay, he doesn't look familiar. But then, it's hard to tell when I can't even see his face. I realize that he is looking at something on his wrist.  
  
A watch?  
  
This peaks my interest and I try to sit up. I make it, but am forced to pause until the wave of dizziness passes. I hate this drug. It impairs my fine motor skills. I think they only use it to humiliate me. No, I know they only use it to humiliate me.  
  
Regaining some control, I try to reach for my glasses. They are located on a table bolted next to the bed. Unfortunately, my lack of coordination proves too much and I end up falling off the bed onto the floor. As I fall, I hear a strangely childlike voice screaming 'NOW GIR!" and the lights flicker twice before completely turning off.  
  
With in seconds the rather short guard is by my side. Something isn't right. He's wearing a mask or something. I can see purple eyes locked onto mine, staring out from inside his mouth. I watched in odd horror my guard shed his skin, revealing a small green child wearing a red and black stripped tunic, black pants, gloves, boots, and a round-ish backpack. This strange child is the owner of those eyes.  
  
I think they used to strong a dose this night. This is one weird dream.  
  
His hands me my goggles then pulls back. Behind him I see some sort of floating orb emitting a soft white glow.  
  
"GIR!" My guard said in his childish voice. "THE PLAN! NOW! BRING IN THE FAKE PROFESSOR!"  
  
The door bursts open before I can comprehend what is going on.  
  
I watch as two figures run in; one very small, very odd looking dog and someone that looks exactly like me, right down to the black hair and goggles. As I staring at this strange doppelganger, I almost miss the strange child's instructions to him.  
  
"When we leave, Destroy Things!"  
  
Odd little silver legs come out of his backpack and quickly wrap around me as the green boy turns to the small green dog. "Get us out of here now Gir!" I watch as the dog rises off of the ground and the little boy climbs on its back, dragging me closer to him as he does so. Within seconds, I find myself flying along side the boy and his dog, the strange legs wrapped snuggly around me. The strange sensation proves too much and I loose the frail dream, plummeting into the darkness of a dreamless sleep.  
  
==========  
  
Excerpt from Gaz's poem/diary.  
  
===  
  
_January 1st  
  
Hey Mom,  
Happy New Year or whatever!  
  
We made the rescue yesterday. Wish you could have been there to see it. It was amazing. The whole thing went off as planned. I'd like to say I didn't have any doubts that it wouldn't, but I can't. Yes, Mom, even I can get nervous. Not that I'd ever let it show.  
  
For his part, I have to say that Zim did pretty well. I'm going to let him keep his limbs intact. He even agreed to allow my real dad, (yes his name is Membrane) to stay at his house, but only if he didn't go down to the labs. It wasn't Zim's choice to do this, of course, but with a little persuasion, he agreed it would be best for his (Zim's) health if Membrane stayed.  
  
Membrane didn't wake up until a few hours ago. When he first came to he saw Zim and panicked. Zim was out of his disguise at the time. In his defense, Zim stated that with the amount of sleep drugs running through Membrane's system, he didn't think that he would be waking up so soon. Zim's computer quickly restrained Membrane. When Membrane saw me, he settled down enough for the computer to release him. He was totally disoriented and didn't remember anything about the rescue. I guess he figured he was still dreaming. He didn't believe that he was awake until he was allowed to touch me, then I was pulled into a tight hug. It was kind of uncomfortable, but knowing he is my real dad made an exception and allowed him to do so. It was hard not to pull away. I'm not use to physical contact.  
  
When he finally settled down we asked about his imprisonment by World Wide International Technology Services. He turned weird at this request and grabbed my shoulders, begging me to promise never to allow WWITS to take me, to fight them for all my worth. Then he panicked and asked about Dib. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when I told him where Dib was. His reaction to my Dad was almost frightening. He told me that they were using Dad to impersonate him. I kind of figured that, especially after I found out Membrane was the one who created all of those things that Dad said he did. I started to get concerned for Dib but Zim showed us a spy-cam he had snuck into our house a while ago. Through it, we watched as Dib watched Mysterious Mysteries and Dad played with a small hand puppet that looked like a miniature of him. Dad looked different as he sat playing with that puppet, strangely lost, almost sad, and it was then that I realized he wasn't dressed in his usual lab coat and protective goggles. I thought Membrane would go off when he saw Dad, but instead he simply smiled. Seeing all of this seemed to calm Membrane somehow and he asked when he could see Dib. I said soon, but we needed to learn a few things first.  
  
Membrane doesn't like to talk much, but neither would I if I didn't have a tongue. Yeah, like I suspected, he doesn't have one. They messed him up pretty bad. He can't walk very well now either. I hate to imagine the horrors they put him through. Apparently they work him to near exhaustion during the day, then force him into a drug induced sleep every night. He doesn't like to talk about his life there much. I could tell that it was hard for him. He told us that World Wide International Technology Services was an organized criminal corporation that specialized in Technology. Something I already figured. He went on to tell us that WWITS had been enslaving our family for generations, from our great grandfather's father to him, and eventually to Dib and I. His life there was a living hell.  
  
We are going to be destroying all of the World Wide International Technology Services buildings we can find. Membrane wants to gather information from their computers before we destroy them. He thinks they may be able to lead us to other Techno-criminal organizations. He wants to free the prisoners and destroy them all. I don't blame him, but I told him before we can be heroes of all the techno-slaves, we have another priority first, Zim's ex-leaders, the Tallest.  
_  
=========  
  
January 5th  
  
I have decided to keep a log of my new life. It helps remind me that this is indeed real.  
  
I still cannot believe I'm free, that I am actually seeing my children in person.  
  
I wake up every morning in a strange house with a strange little alien and an even stranger little robot and I have to remind myself that this isn't a dream.  
  
I know that Zim's generosity is forced. It is my wonderful daughter Gaz who has insured my stay. When she desires, which is usually, she has a frightening aura around her that cannot be ignored and I know she scares Zim. Yet despite this forced generosity, Zim seems rather accepting of me. In fact, he acts as if he actually almost enjoys my presence at times. I attribute this to years of living with that hyper little robot of his. I asked him once if he ever thought about fixing it, but he merely shuddered, mumbling something about insane robots, libraries and dangers to his person.  
  
I've discovered that Zim loves to talk. Mostly its about how Dib always foils his plans or about his revenge on his now ex-leaders Tallest Red and Tallest Purple. Somehow he always seems to slip in a few sentences about how amazing or superior he is. I find his egotistical manner amusing. At times, he falls into a thoughtful silence, but his insane little robot, Gir, always interrupts his contemplation with requests for food, having Pig over for tea, or some other such nonsense. I've watched him disappear down that odd toilet of his in his kitchen more than once to escape his robot's insane escapades. "Keep Membrane occupied, Gir. I'm going down to the lab."  
  
I am curious about this lab of his. It sounds extensive. I can only imagine the vast technology he has at his fingertips. I would love to visit his lab someday, though I will wait until he offers it. I have no desire to break his fragile trust. If he does offer, I hope I don't have to flush myself down that toilet to do so. I doubt I'd fit anyway.  
  
Gaz is even more amazing than I had dreamed. Her mind is keen and her wits are sharp, if not a little dark. But then, with the life she's lived, I cannot blame her. She is blossoming into a beauty. I wish...I wish her mother could have lived to see her, to see them both.  
  
I finally met Dib. It was pretty amusing, and broke my heart at the same time. He will not allow me near him, claiming that I am merely an evil clone created by his arch nemesis Zim to lure him into a trap, or something. From what I did see of him, he is a handsome young man. A little confused, but then I can't really blame him. From what Zim tells me of their exploits, they have been battling each other for quite some time. Dib has a right not to trust Zim. It's obvious that Zim respect for Dib runs quite deep. And from the bits and pieces I've seen and heard from Dib, this respect seems mutual.  
  
Gaz and Zim have been destroying the World Wide International Technology Services organization at a fantastic rate. Zim has a device that drains information from computer mainframes and has been gathering a substantial amount of valuable information concerning not only WWITS but also other similar corrupt organizations. Gir and I have been watching them destroy these strongholds of evil on a video link Zim recently set up for the occasion and it is very entertaining. I especially enjoy watching Zim. His enthusiasm for destruction seems to know no bounds.  
  
I have offered to assist Zim in his revenge against the Massive. I don't know if he will accept it yet. Zim is a proud creature, if nothing else.  
  
Well, Gir has made waffles, again, so I best close this file before he spills more syrup on this laptop than he already has.  
  
Freedom is wonderful. And soon I will work on bringing my family together for the first time. For the only time.  
  
Yes, Life is GOOD!  
  
==========  
  
Excerpt from Gaz's poem/diary.  
  
===  
  
_January 10th  
  
Hey Mom,  
  
Zim's robot thingy wasted no time in destroying all of the buildings in the city owned by World Wide International Technology Services. Zim and I have destroyed quite a few too, the ones located outside of the city. We even used his voot to demolish the ones in other countries. Japan is cool!  
  
Zim has been downloading files for Membrane from the WWITS computers before we totally destroy them. I think he likes the idea of finding and destroying all of the criminal organizations. Not because he doesn't like them, I doubt he could care less, but because he really enjoys destroying thing and to destroy something bad gives justification. I'm discovering that Zim is pretty destructive by nature.  
  
Dib's been going crazy. He's been watching all of the news reports talking about buildings exploding and stuff. The news says they are terrorist attacks, but not Dib. No, he thinks that Zim has finally started taking over this stupid planet. Yeah, it's Zim's ship, but he's not invading earth, he and I are the heroes this time, shutting down a major criminal organization and rescuing techno-prisoners.  
  
Heh! If he only knew the truth....  
  
I promised Zim I wouldn't tell Dib that he isn't going to take over earth. I think Zim likes the game too much. I think it's funny. I wasn't going to tell Dib anyway. Why ruin his fun.  
  
Dib finally met Membrane. He is convinced that Zim has created a clone of Dad. We found out that it is true, in a way; only Dad is the real clone, not Membrane. We didn't tell Dib about World Wide International Technology Services yet. We didn't even tell him who Membrane really is. Membrane decided it we should wait until we are sure that WWITS is completely disbanded. He's paranoid that they will imprison us all.  
  
"Dib seems a little to unstable now to be bothered with such details. The important thing is to make sure this never happens again. I want you both safe first. We're alive and free. We have plenty of time to work on our father/children relationships later."  
  
Membrane seems to have thought things through pretty good.  
  
I still don't know what we're going to do with Dad; he seems kind of lost now that WWITS is in shambles. At first Membrane wanted to destroy him, to lock him up and throw away the key, but then, when we discovered that Dad was his clone, he seemed to change his mind. He said that he figured Dad was as much an innocent as him, maybe even more so, though I don't see how. Membrane didn't ask to be locked up and tortured.  
  
We have started planning revenge against the Tallest and the Irken Empire. Zim wants to be an Invader again, only this time he wants to invade the Massive. (That's the Tallests' war ship. It's supposed to be pretty big.) Membrane wants to help too. He figures it's the least he can do after we rescued him. Sounds like fun to me. Zim knows the guy who designed the Massive so this is going to go smoother than I had expected. We just need to figure out how to change Zim's voot so that Irk and the Massive won't recognize it's electronic signature, or it's design. Membrane is helping Zim with the design. I'm working on the electronic signature. It's been great.  
  
Well, I gotta go. Dib's been pounding on my door again, wanting me to divulge some of Zim's secrets. He figures that if he can't' rescue' me, maybe he can use me to spy on Zim.  
  
Poor delusional Dib!_

_====================  
_  
End Note: An explanation of sorts, concerning this last chapter; as you have noticed, I have deviated from the original format for this tale. I specifically wanted to involve Gaz, to give a little insight to her thoughts concerning WWITS and the man she saw at Bloaties. I must say that I never intended for the Tallest to tell Zim the truth and although I intended for Gaz to use Zim for his facilities, I never intended for them to become friends (of sorts). As usual, my muse escaped and wreaked havoc on all aspects of this tale. I apologize if this has been a disappointment, and if requested, will write an alternate ending that may be more, well, acceptable, but probably won't have as happy an ending. Again, I would like to thank you for your support throughout the creation of this tale. I would especially like to thank the Creator of Invader Zim, Jhonen Vasquez, (THANK YOU!) for without him, none of this would ever have graced the internet, or the television for that matter.  
  
THANK YOU ALL! - Ashsema


End file.
